“Please, Ma’am – your safety.” “She is right, Vicky,” said Prince Albert. “Very wel . We shal pray for your success, Miss Quinn.” Mary curtseyed very low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She waited only until the carriage was in motion. Then, with one last look at the grey, drizzling world above ground, she hurried back into the Palace. Twenty-nine Thursday afternoon Buckingham Palace sewers James stared at the crates of nitrocel ulose, wishing they were a hal ucination. This was entirely his fault. Immediately after that bizarre midnight episode with the man with the etched-glass lantern, he ought to have sealed al sewer entrances and placed them under constant guard. Yet the idea of banning the flushers, of obstructing routine maintenance, had seemed excessive. He’d been reluctant to create panic where none was necessary, draw attention to a weakness that remained exposed. And this was the price for having been cavalier. Now, he was responsible for the hysterical threat to, and possible destruction of, Buckingham Palace.
