The Grey Tabby: Fifteen

Ms. Madison gasped, covering her little red mouth with both hands. She looked at her father with utter incredulity. He returned her gaze.

"The top brass at Scotland Yard are in crisis talks with the Government," the Superintendent told his daughter. "I walked out when they started talking about surrender. Sometimes, I think your path works better than mine. Even if they give in, I don't think it'll stop there until those devices are recovered."

Ms. Madison nodded soberly, looking full into the awed face of his daughter.

In the mighty penthouse of the Grey Tabby, the super-villain looked out over London. He smiled in quiet satisfaction at the view below him. Beside him, a petty, if slightly hard-boiled young woman in a business suit held a file.

"Dudley got killed at the Natural History Museum, sir," she reported with cool efficiency.

"At least he had the decency to do that," the Grey Tabby replied coldly. "And there are more where he came from."

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "And your conference call is ready."

"Good," the Grey Tabby pressed a button on his desk. At once, four television screens rose from it. Four faces appeared, three european, one asian. The Grey Tabby settled back in his chair.

"Welcome, gentlemen," the supervillian glared into the screen. "It's glad to see you replied to my letters."

"But of course," the asian nodded. "We were fascinated by your offer. A safe haven for crime in Europe. Which Eastern European country had you in mind?"

"None." The Grey Tabby replied bluntly. "Gentlemen," he pressed a button on his desk, "I give you a new world - the Republic of London!"

A huge diorama rose out of the office floor. It was a scale model of London - a devasted London with many buildings in ruins and whole areas sealed off, but London nevertheless.

The Grey Tabby: Fourteen

Ms. Madison said goodbye to the Green Man and the Girl in Grey at the entrance to the Savoy. The Outsider went invisible to slip past the doorman. Hurrying to the lifts, the blonde pressed for her floor. She ignored the young man who tried to start a conversation with her, and hurried backto her room.

"Be good, Emily," she whispered, "I don't want to have to move out." She swung open the door, only to start back.

There, sat in an armchair facing the door, was the portly form of Superintendent Madison. He frowned at the appearance of his daughter.

"Lynette," he sighed. "I heard about your latest exploit on the radio. What do you think you are - batgirl?"


"Not with a gun," Ms. Madison crossed the floor and seated herself on the arm of her father's chair. "I've been in fights before, dad, so why the visit?"

"Your friend in green," the detective scowled. "Scotland Yard received a fresh demand from the Grey Tabby. He's got hold of five old Soviet chemical warheads and is threatening to detonate one of them in Romford unless the Metropolitan Police stands down in his selected boroughs. After that, he will detonate another until we agree to his demands."

"And will you?" she asked, voice full of foreboding.

"We may have to," came the grim reply. "If we can't find these weapons in twenty-four hours."

The Grey Tabby: Thirteen

The guard at Tilbury docks idly smoked a cigarette, looking at the mighty container port which serviced London. He waved the great truck past, exchanging idle words with the driver, before moving on to the next vehicle.

The big truck turned into the docks, towards a sealed-off compound. The gentleman at the gate turned and shouted for them to stop. A short burst from a machine-gun felled him. The truck rammed the gates of the compound. Men hurried down off the truck, gangsters all.

The gangsters shot down a number of uniformed guards, before a man with cutting gear stepped down. Behind him came the imposing figure of the Grey Tabby. in cloak and long coat.

"Get it open." He ordered the men. "And hurry."

The gangsters feverishly cut the doors open. Three shots felled two of them, but a burst of fire into the container ended that. The door open, the men stepped back.

Two nightmarish figures stepped out of the truck. In brown all-covering suits with gasmasks and eyepieces, they looked like some odd alien creatures.

They entered the container, picking up a number of dusty shells labelled in a foreign languaue. These were loaded on the truck and locked in a secure box.

Before the armed police teams arrived on the scene, the truck was long gone.

Sunday Supplement: Guarding the Pulpit

Sir Richard Arcos here: Last weekend, my wife and I paid a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Robert Rule, my daughter and son-in-law, at Plas Llangarmon, Carms. We attended the Rules' own church, Salem, Llangarmon, a solid and very typical Welsh Chapel. The Rev. Geraint Pryse, the minister there, was away on holiday, so we were to listen to a supply preacher. This gent, who will remain nameless, was from a college somewhere in London. He got into the pulpit and welcomed everyone. We sung lustily, Mr. Rule, one of the deacons, watching closely. The prayer was a little odd, but we let that pass for a bit. When the sermon started, however, we quickly discovered some disagreements between ourseoves and the preacher. He told us that the Gospel was more about society than individuals.

That probably started it. Two of the decons got up, a large chap who is rugby teacher at the local school motioned him to get down. When he refused and continued, three decons charged up the pulpit. The rugby player got his legs, and the man crashed down from the pulpit. Two others got the man in an arm-lock, as he continued to strugle and attempt to deliver his sermon. He was pinned across the communion table and gagged with a handkerchief, before being bodily ejected from the church.

The late arrival of a rather worried-looking gentleman was the cue for us to discover that the man had in fact been a Unitarian who had gone to the wrong church in error. He had done the same thing and suffered similar consequences.

The Grey Tabby: Twelve

A single gunshot split the air, the man facing Ms. Madison jerked convulsively before hitting the ground, his life's blood pumping out of him. A second shot disposed of the man who had meant to kill the Girl in Grey. Ms. Madison laughed, as a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows.

"The Green Man!" the gangsters gasped in amazement.

"Backup," Ms. Madison confirmed, her own gun held unwaveringly at the opposition.

"Now go to it." The Green Man shot another thug.

Andrea emerged from the other passage, a tommy-gun held in her hands. The Girl in Grey drew her whip from her belt and leapt over the rail, onto the gangsters, the Green Man following. Soon, the hall of the Natural History Museum was filled with unconscious or dead hoods.

"And Emily reports success her end," Ms. Madison laid down her radio. "It looks like the Grey Tabby's plans are well and truly on the skids."

"Don't be so sure," the Green Man warned them. "Now that his plans are being disrupted, he's likely to change them. And that could mean sometheing far deadlier than robbery."

"What do you mean?" the girls asked anxiously.

"I mean," the Green Man told them, "that this felt very much like a distraction."

The Grey Tabby: Eleven

The mighty towers of the Natural History Museum speak of its status as a temple of natural science. As usual, the museum was packed with vistors, families showing their children around the amazing space. Many a scientist would have smiled at it all, but few can have any illusion that the main draw was the dinosaurs inside. But that is the way of things.

The attendants were a little puzzled by the sharp-suited men who strode into the museum, a couple of them carrying violin cases. One man thought to challenge them, only to be knocked out. Guards rose, and the violin cases opened, revealing tommy-guns.Thus armed and equipped, the mobsters strode through into the main hall.

One man discharged his gun, drawing screams from the visitors. He only laughed, the others forming a phalanx behind him. A number of men appeared at the other doors, having crept in undetected.

"You will give us your money!" the leading gangster announced. "Then your bank details. After that, you will be allowed to go." A somewhat nerdy-looking man set up a computer. "The Grey Tabby gives you his word."

"And the Grey Tabby was pretty free with it on insecure connections." Ms. Madison strode through a door, over the body of an unconscious gangster. "Your boss is all brawn but very little brain, in my opinion."

"Really?" the lead gangster moved his gun to cover the blonde. "You didn't think it might be a trap?"

"The thought had occured to us." The Girl in Grey strode through another door, having knocked two more men out. And maybe you'd forgotten about the Savoy."

"Not at all!" the men opened up with their tommy-guns, as the visitors hit the floor, screaming in terror. The girls turned from the doors, only to find men behind them, guns ready.

"Don't accept their surrender!" the gangster cried. "Kill them!"

The Grey Tabby: Ten

At the top of a mighty tower block, greedy eyes surveyed the city, seeing each pin-point of light and coveting it. A buzzer sounded on a broad oak desk, and the occupant of the chair swung round to face the door.

"Enter!" he commanded imperiously.

The door opened cautiously to admit a rather nervous-looking man in a sharp suit. The man in the chair, a cloaked figure wearing a tabby-striped mask, glared at the newcomer.

" You were supposed to rob every guest at the Savoy Hotel tonight," the Grey Tabby scowled. "Instead, you come back here decimated by three girls."

"The Outsider..." the man began, trembling, "they were trained and ...."

"I will not tolerate bungling!" the Grey Tabby's fist slammed down on his desk, voice rising to a shout. "And I will not tolerate excuses for bungling! Bring me those girls - dead or alive! I want them!"

"How do we do that?" the sharp-suited man replied, voice hardening. "With the...."

"No excuses!" the Grey Tabby pounded the desk again.

"Then find someone else!" the man scowled.

"I already have," the Grey Tabby smiled. "they arrive tomorrow at Tibury docks. Goodbye."

The man looked shocked, as the floor gave way beneath him. He fell into a pit full of wildcats, who immediately tore him to pieces.

"Miss Jones," the Grey Tabby pressed his desk intercom again. "Tell Dudley that he's promoted. Tomorrow's targets are the Natuaral History Museum and Victoria Station. And no bungling."

"And Rob?" the girl on the line asked.

"The cats won't need feeding tonight," the Grey Tabby replied, calm again. "And tell that to Dudley as well."

The Grey Tabby: Nine:

"Oh, goody!" the Girl in Grey rubbed her hands together, adopting a fighting stance.

"Now for some fun. Ready to go to prison for a long time?"

"After all," Ms. Madison chipped in, "you must know we destroyed your men downstairs. The lights!"

The Outsider flicked the light switch, and the girls made ready to do unspeakable things to the Man who had called himself master of London.

But there was no man there, only a large grey Tabby with a speaker attached to its neck. The room filled with laughter once more.

"I respect you far too much for that...." The gangster chuckled. "But know that you cannot be everywhere...."

"We don't have to be," Ms. Madison replied spiritedly. "Just others like us."

"And the Outsider," Emily spoke menacingly. "I can be places you can't believe."

"She can, you know," the Girl in Grey smiled. "So how about you walk away right now, before things get really tough?"

"Yeah!" Ms. Madison laughed.

"I could say the same thing," the Grey Tabby growled. "You will do no more against my men, or you will suffer. And the Savoy will suffer for what you have done here. Soon, no-one will oppose my men."

"Except us," Ms. Madison replied. "Our families will fight alongside us - mush."

"You will regret this," the voice said, before the tabby cat walked through the room. The Outsider opened the door for it. "Do not doubt it."

"And that means Emily stays with you tonight," the Girl in Grey instructed Ms. Madison. "I'm off to keep a watch on the streets."

"And that," Ms. Madison shed her dress, sitting by the window, "is that. Fancy something to eat, Emily?"

"No." The Outsider sat down, materialising again. "Do you have anything I can shoot at?"

The Grey Tabby: Eight

Ms. Madison and the Girl in Grey were able to slip away from the admiring crowds (not that they had tried very hard when the press turned up), and head upstairs. Since the Outsider had gone invisible, they had to trust that she could see them. Taking the lift to Ms. Madison's suite, they spent the way up laughing at what they had done.

"What do you think they'll tell the boss?" Ms. Madison asked, laughing happily.

"That London's society girls are way too tough and he should get out of town..." the Girl in Grey hung onto her friend.

"No," Ms. Madison shook her head. "He'll decide to have a go at the Savoy again."

"Then I'll move in with you." The Girl in Grey patted Ms. Madison's cheek. "Or I'll leave Emily. Scruff sort of needs me - and so do the cats."

"I understand," Ms. Madison smiled, "just come in for a chat. We have to work out our next move. Besides," she laughed, "it's almost time for the late news, and I think we'll be on it."

The lift stopped, and the girls stepped out, hurrying into Ms. Madison's room. The Girl in Grey sat down on the sofa, while Ms. Madison rang for room service. Before she could do any more, all the lights went out. Someone male began to laugh, very close at hand.

"Two clever girls," he spoke softly, voice mocking. "Didn't you consider that I might have planned that as a distraction?"

"Depends who you are," Ms. Madison replied. "Who are you?"

"I," the speaker announced, "am the Grey Tabby. Shortly to be master of London."

The Grey Tabby: Seven

Ms. Madison rose slowly, careful to keep her hands in view. At the same time, the Girl in Grey slumped in her chair, hoping no-one would notice. All the while, the gangsters strutted as though they were masters of London.

"You know the Met hasn't stood down," Ms. Madison declared in perfect cut-glass tones.

"Can it, duchess!" one of the mobsters turned, looking nasty. He was also angry, and glared at Ms. Madison.

"Or you'll what?" the blonde shot back, fearless. She heard the Outsider loading her crossbow. As the man raised his arm to strike, a crossbow-bolt hit him in the chest, and he fell to the floor, quite dead.

"It's her!" the gangsters shouted together, scanning the room for any trace of the Outsider. One of them saw something, but it turned out to be another crossbow bolt. As the same time, the Girl in Grey emerged from under the table, in cowl and costume. A single karate kick sent one man flying.

"The Girl in Grey!" the gangsters, now down to eight, turned on her. Ms. Madison shot one of them, and the Outsider got another.

The Girl in Grey ducked a couple of slugs, knocking a man back against the bar. Ms. Madison bounced a plate off a thug's head, while shooting another. The screams of gangsters and many guests filled the air, as the Outsider appeared, her eyes glowing, cross-bow clearly visible. Two more men fell victim to the terrifying figure.

"Get out." Ms. Madison addressed the remaining gangsters, her gun unwavering. "And remember, Scotland Yard will not stand down. The people of London support them."

The man raised his gun, only to have the Outsider shoot him in the shoulder. With his remaining fellows, the men turned and ran.

"They'll be back." Ms. Madison sighed.

"And we'll be there." The Outsider toted her crossbow menacingly.

The Grey Tabby: Six

Ms. Madion hopped out of Mr. Rake's car at the Savoy, gave him a lingering kiss, then turned and walked through the doors of the luxurious hotel. The doorman saluted her, recognising her as a frequent guest, while a page approached her as she passed the desk.


"Ms. Madison?" the question caused her to turn. "You have company waiting in the bar."


"Great," Ms. Madison smiled. "Who is it?"


"She didn't say," the page replied.


"She doesn't need to," Ms. Madison laughed. "If she is a she, then I know who it is. Any company with her?"

"A girl who normally wouldn't be allowed in here," the page smiled back. "But seeing as they were calling for you, Ms. Madison..."

"Thanks," the blonde smiled cutely, before heading on into the bar.

The Girl in Grey, dressed in a long coat, rose at Ms. Madison's entry. So did scruff, and the way the other chair moved indicated that the Outsider was with them.

"Shall we go to my suite?" Ms. Madison asked.

Before she could do anything more, the doors of the bar crashed open, and a horde of masked gunmen poured through.

The Grey Tabby: Five

The Girl in Grey was sat at home in her London flat, while the Outsider was practising her aim with her crossbow. Scruff was asleep on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion. With the sun sinking below the horizon, the street-lights going on slowly around the park. Her feet up, in costume and ready for the night ahead, the Girl in Grey did not want to get up. When the 'phone rang, it took her a little while to get up. The Outsider picked it up for her.

"Hullo," she spoke softly, voice carrying an air of menace.

"Hi there, Emily," Ms. Madison laughed, "how's the Outsider this New Year?"

"Bored," the Outsider complained. "It's dark and cold. The streets are empty, and the crooks are in their holes. Does the Green Man want someone killed?"

"I don't know," Ms. Madison confessed. "Right now, I'm round Mike Rake's. I've just heard about the threat to London."

"What threat?" the Outsider started. "Hey!"

"What is it?" the Girl in Grey's voice came on the line, urgent.

"A character calling themself the Grey Tabby has demanded that the Met stand down in two Divisions," Ms. Madison told the costumed crime-fighter." If they don't, then he says he'll strip London of its treasures."

"I'm coming over to the Savoy," the Girl in Grey spoke with determination. "See you there."

"And I'm coming too!" the Outsider came back on the line "- so no sticking around to canoodle with your boyfriend. And if you do, I'm coming over and getting in through the keyhole."


"I'll be there," Ms. Madison ran for the door.

"What is it?" Rake looked up.

"I have to get to the Savoy," Ms. Madison told him. "Important meeting with the girls."

"Come on," Rake put on his coat. "I'll run you back. After all, this is for London."

The Grey Tabby: Three

"There is no truth," Superintendent Madison told the assembled press, "in the rumour that the Prime Minister has advised us to do as this demand says. The demand, signed by 'the Grey Tabby' advises us that unless the Metropolitan Police Force stands down in Southwark and Greenwich the Museums of London will be stripped bare. Naturally, we shall not give in to these demands..."


"Naturally," Ms. Madison smiled, letting Mr. Rake put his arm about her slim waist. All going out forgotten, she naturally cuddled up to him. "My dad's a good man. The safety of the people matters much more to him than any number of treasures."


"And people matter more to you too, Lynette," Rake stole a kiss.


"Of course," Ms. Madison laughed, "and I suspect I'll be back to work very soon. This is just the sort of work for the Green Man."


"And you father?"


"Will be furious," Ms. Madison lifted her face, laughing. "Now, I need to make a 'phone call to another grey feline. One on the side of right and good."

"I'm glad to hear it," Rake laughed. "And then I'll see you back to the Savoy."

The Grey Tabby: Two

Ms. Madison was, for a change, not dancing with Mr. Rake. Neither was she at the Savoy, as the waiters would have told anyone who asked. Instead, she was sat in front of the fire with her beau, drinking tea. The setting was Michael Rake's stylish penthouse, and Ms. Madison had called around to meet Mr. Rake prior to lunch. The fact that it was now after eight o'clock and they were still there indicated that something had caused her to change her mind.


"This is great, isn't it, Lynette?" Mr. Rake smiled, feeding the young blonde a biscuit. "Staying in, not going out, I mean."


"Oh, you bet," she chuckled softly. "And thanks for New Year's, Mike. It was swell."


"Oh, I agree," Rake smiled, voice soft, "and now I've seen your boss, I'm not in the least bit jealous, Lynette - not after you went to me, back there at Mainstone. Would you like to motor down to my father's place in Surey some weekend?"


"You bet," she breathed softly, "but I never know when the boss 'll need me. And I need to meet my father one of these weekends. He's starting to get annoyed with me."

"And we can't have that," Rake looked solemn. "Not when I'll need to ask him an important question soonish."

"Oh, Mike!" Ms. Madison giggled, "stop it!" In order to emphasise this, she turned on the television.

The picture that greeted her was one of New Scotland Yard. There, outside that breat glass and steel tower was the familiar, if corpulent figure of Superintendent Horace Madison. Underneath were the words, 'London Blackmail Threat.'

She could only gasp with suprise.

The Grey Tabby: One

The guard checked his watch. It was just a little bit before eleven. He smiled, glad that there were only a few hours before he was relieved. Night duty at the British Museum was nothing if it was not creepy, especially in the Egyptian galleries, among massive statues, visible only as strange shapes in the gloom. It was like walking in a massive indoor cemetery. Still, the pay was good, and the duties not too onerous.

Then he heard it. A cat crying, that strange, frightening sound which chills the blood, especially in the presence of so many parts so many statues of the Egyptian Cat Goddes, Bast. Turning, he illuminated his torch. What he saw shocked him.

A glass case was open, and he inside it was a little knitted Tabby cat.

New Year's Vengeance: Seven

"No!" The Disturber blanched, "you can't be here! Not for another twelve hours at least!"

"Because you were sighted in Trafalgar Square? Because you threatened to disrupt New Year's Eve?" The Green Man stepped further into the room, drawing his gun. "You forget, Disturber, I have many agents of vengeance." The masked man chuckled menacingly. "Soon after Ms. Madison left for Mainstone, you arrived at the house. By that time another of my agents was able to forward your picture to me."

Bristow stared, open-mouthed at the Green Man.

"And the line you threw Ms. Madison about my being Michael Rake!" the Green Man's tone was scornful. "You can see now who I am, Disturber!"

"I can," Bristow rose from the sofa, his hand going for a concealed weapon. "And now I know all I need to - men!"

The Green Man easily shot Bristow's gun from his hand.

"And don't think about the men outside." The Green Man laughed. "They will never bother anyone again."

"He's right you know." A red-headed figure familiar to Ms. Madison entered through the door, sitting down as soon as she could."

"Andrea!" Ms. Madison laughed with relief, "how are you?"

"Out of bullets," the red-head cracked.

"So, Monty Bristow," the Green Man laughed, "you thought to draw me into a trap. Instead, you are the one who is trapped. And don't try telling me that I'll never take you alive," the Green Man's voice was grim. "You belong in an asylum."

"And, because it's still the season of goodwill, and your blood would ruin the carpets" The Green Man showed in a couple of burly men in white coats, "you'll be carried out of here alive - not in a coffin." With that, he laid Monty Bristow out with a single blow. The villain was picked up, put in a strait-jacket and carried away, the Green Man watching impassively.

"Well," Lady Sylvia got up, "it's still not midnight. Won't you join us, Green Man?" She moved towards him, smiling.

"Sorry," the Green Man backed towards the door. "I have the Girl in Grey waiting outside. We have to make Peterborough in time for her to catch a train to Scotland. Farewell."

"But I," Rake stepped towards Ms. Madison, "am most definitely staying. Lynette?"

"Mike - darling..." she lifted her face.

New Year's Vengeance: Six

"Mike!" Ms. Madison crossed the room, an expresion of joy on her lovely features. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"And I'd glad to hear that, darling," Rake offered her an arm, "even if you are unusually demonstrative all of a sudden."

"I'll tell you why later," Ms. Madison told him, smiling sweetly. "Right now, I'm just happy you're here."

"Lady Sylvia," Rake sighed, "would you mind awfully telling me just exactly what's going on? Apart from Lynette's having a funny spell, that is."

"Oh, Michael!" Lady Sylvia giggled. "Our mystery guest, Mr. Matthew-Henry tells us you're the Green Man. Are you?"

"The Green Man?" Rake frowned. "I thought he was a myth. Lynette, what sort of joke is this?"

"Oh, it's no joke, is it, Lynette?" Bristow laughed mockingly. "Because you know the Green Man is no myth, don't you?"

"If you say so," Ms. Madison smiled innocently, recoving some of her spirits.

"And the idea of my being this sinister character," Michael Rake laughed. "Why, I'm just Lynette's beau - nothing else."

"I told you so!" Lady Sylvia exclaimed.

"But wasn't it convenient, Michael Rake just turning up when he was named as the Green Man?" the Disturber laughed mockingly. "Just in time.... How come?"

"Because it is the way of the Green Man." The French windows opened, and a familiar figure stepped into the room.

New Year's Vengeance: Five

A smile spread slowly over Ms. Madison's face, turning into a laugh which echoed through the mighty halls of Mainstone. She clapped her hands, looking at the Disturber with renewed confidence. He glared back at her.

"You expect me to believe that?" she scoffed. "Mike and the Green Man can't possibly be the same person."

"Can't they?" Bristow shook his head. "Tell me, Ms. Madison, have you ever seen them together?"

"I haven't seen Mike and the Prince of Wales together," Ms. Madison replied spiritedly, "but that doesn't mean they're one and the same person. What's your game, Disturber?"

"What is the game of the Disturber?" Bristow laughed. "I create chaos out of order. My motto is 'Out of One, Many.' But while you ponder this, while you wonder whether Mr. Rake is playing a little game with you, my blonde angel of death, I shall make hay."

"You can try," Ms. Madison shook her head, "but it won't work. I know your game, Bristow."

"All of it?" Bristow shook his head. "I sincerely doubt that. After all, you can't possibly have seen the men who surround this house. No-one will pass until my purpose is accomplished - the unmasking of the Green Man."

"You fiend!" Lady Sylvia spat, rounding on him, "and to think I welcomed you into this house!"

"Given that your beauty is matched only by your stupidity, Lady Sylvia," Bristow chuckled, "I should not worry too much."

"That's just not on!" a new voice broke in on the gathering. Looking up, Ms. Madison saw a familiar figure.

"Mike - Mr. Rake!" She shot to her feet.

"Lynette, darling," Rake drawled urbanely. "Do I intrude?"

New Year's Vengeance: Four

Ms. Madison could only look at the urbane figure of the Disturber, her mouth dry, head spinning. It seemed too incredible to believe - Monty Bristow knowing the identity of the Green Man! Why, she didn't know that!

"You..." she tried to speak, only to have the words die in her mouth.

"I do," Bistow chuckled. "Does that surprise you, Lynette Madison?"

"Yes," the blonde nodded, trembling slightly.

"Why this is thrilling!" Lady Sylvia laughed excitedly, clapping her hands. "The identity of the Green Man. And I always thought the police made him up to explain crimes they couldn't solve!"

Ms. Madison wished she could silence the bubbly brunette, as the Disturber smiled mockingly across the room.

"And don't pretend you don't know," the Disturber laughed. "Unless you're even dumber than I thought. After all, you are waiting for him, aren't you?"

"You mean to tell us that the Green Man my brother?" Lady Sylvia's eyes widened.

"No." The Disturber rose to his feet. "The Green Man is Michael Rake."

New Year's Vengeance: Three

There was silence for about a minute, as Ms. Madison and the Disturber regarded each other. Ms. Madison regarded the super-villian with suspicion, while he only smiled urbanely back.

"Why, Ms. Madison," he chuckled, "this is a surprise. Or may I call you Lynette?"

"You may not!" the blonde bristled. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing in the New Year, like everyone else," the Disturber replied. "I assume you're doing the same thing."

"Oh! Lynette!" Lady Sylvia laughed, "so you know our mystery guest!"

"You could say that." Ms. Madison scowled, her lovely features darkening.

"Cheer up, Lynette," the Disturber's tone was mocking. "I'm sure you'll come to accept me in time. After all, we have so much in common, you and I."

"We'll see..." Ms. Madison smiled mysteriously.

"Great!" Lady Sylvia smiled hopefully. "Shall we play some getting-to-know-you games?" There was a note of cute enthusiasm in the brunette's voice, as she clapped her hands.

"Why not?" the Disturber laughed urbanely, and Ms. Madison felt sure something was wrong. She didn't have him figured for that type. But then, he was a mad supervillain.

"What we'll do," Lady Sylvia started handing out pens and bits of paper, "is write down one fascinating fact and one embarrassing moment. They'll be put in a hat and jumbled about. Then I'll pick them out one at a time. I'll read the thing out, then give three people who it might be true of. You'll vote, and the person who gets the most right wins - won't that be fun?" The young aristocrat positively bubbled with excitement.

They did as instructed, laughing happily. Ms. Madison chuckled, scribbling eagerly on her scrap of paper. She laughed as she wrote down her embarrassing moment. Soon the pieces of paper were all in the hat, and Lady Sylvia took charge, smiling as she reached into the hat.

"Who once got lost on their way home?" the brunette asked, laughing. "Despite having lived there for three years?"

"You did!" one of the young men cried.

"I have to give you a choice!" Lady Sylvia shouted, waving her arms. "I have to give you a choice!"

"Sorry, Sylv." The young man laughed heartily, "I guess I spoiled it."

"Nope," Lady Sylvia chuckled, "I'll just move on to the next one. Now, is this Lynette, Joan or me? 'I once walked down to the Savoy ballroom in my undies.'"

Lady Sylvia got the most votes, but it was Ms. Madison whose embarrassing moment it was. In fact, she'd had to pretend she was the Green Man in order to help him escape, and that had been the only way to re-appear as herself.

"Next," Lady Slvia laughed, getting into the swing of things. Is this...." Her voice trailed off. "Wow!" She gasped. "Is this Joan, Toby or Mr. Matthew-Henry: 'I know the true identity of the Green Man'!"

The look on Bristow's face said it all.