A chill wind disturbed Lady Sylvias hair, as she and Sir Richard Arcos stood by a little grave in Mid-Wales. The earth on the grave was fresh, turf newly laid on it. The two figures wore mourning clothes, and the flowers on the grave were fresh. Marking the grave was a wooden cross, a brass plate on it bearing the words: Yvette Trevelyan: 1920-2009."We were once engaged to be married, you know," Sir Richard smiled nostalgically. "But she fell for my best friend. And I let her go. They had a wonderful life together. He was pastor of the church here for a long time. I remember visiting him and his family."
"I know..." Lady Sylvia smiled. "My grandad was your friend too, after all. But something happened, didn't it?""Their son, Cakvin Trevelyan," Sir Richard nodded. "He joined the army - against his mother's wishes. Norman told her that she had to let him make his own way, just as we all had, but that's easier said than done. Well, Lieutenant Calvin Trevelyan was seconded to the Secret Service, and sent to Russia to do something awfully hush-hush."
Lady Sylvia looked down again at the grave. She remembered the funeral, the old man in the wheelchair who wept as the woman with whom he had shared his life was buried. And also though of the way that Sir Richard had been unable to be present at her death.
"Oulton was a senior man at headquarters," Sir Richard continued the story. "Some people thought he would be the next head of the Secret Service. But he'd been a Red agent since his Oxford days. Norman and I learned a little of his secret from some party or other we were at. My daughter - the girl called Sparrowhawk - saw him speaking to a man she didn't like, followed them, and found he was passing on secrets to the Russians. Well, Norman and I were able to expose him, forcing him to defect. But before we could stop him, he had Norman's son arrested. Norman had to choose; let Oulton go on working as a mole in British Secret Service, of sacrifice the life of his son." Sir Richard's eyes narrowed. "He chose to sacrifice the life of his son, so that others would not die."
Lady Sylvia could only shake her head.
"The shock almost killed Yvette then," Sir Richard looked again at the grave. "Norman and I travelled to Russia, and there Norman confronted Oulton again. This time, Norman shot him. We all thought he was dead."
"But?" Lady Sylvia sighed.
"The other day," Sir Richard replied, "I learned that Oulton is still alive. Not only that, but he's still dangerous. How do you fancy a trip to Eastern Europe, my dear?"
