"Who is this?" the top-hatted figure spoke in a thin, soft voice that made Ms. Madison's skin crawl.
"Some sort of cop," one of the men spat. "She's got a gun. She chased us from the capital of the filthy rich. I think she's an enemy."
"What do you want?" the blonde demanded.
"Want?" the top-hatted figure laughed wickedly. "London awash with blood-the blood of the rich. The city in flames, the working man enthroned in Westminster Abbey. In a word, my dear, Revolution!"
"Shall we give her the works?" another of the Communists looked over at Ms. Madison. "Kill her like the filthy Capitalist she is?"
"No," the top-hatted man shook his head. "Let her go. Let her tell her masters-whoever they are. Let them fear me. Let them tremble. Good-bye young detective."
The men shrank away slowly into the darkness. Ms. Madison waited, aware that a gun was held on her.
"And then I had to walk all the way back to the Savoy in my stockings!" Ms. Madison reported to the Green Man, voice full of outrage. "I lost a perfectly good pair of stockings! And I don't know anything more about these crazy guys! But I didn't like all that talk about blood in the streets."
"Nor do I," the Green Man agreed. "But tomorrow, I will brief my agents. Tomorrow the counter-revolution begins."