I think I've walked into the wrong bally gentlman's club.

[Clint]

"You don't see the likes of this lot at the Drones of a Tuesday night. Do you, old top? I suppose I'd best be going. . . Dash it all, is that Old Heck himself. Well it's only sporting to say hello. And who is that ravishing adventuress he's talking to anyway?"

With that Nathaniel Guest strode confidently over to his old school chum Hector Empyrean and introduced himself - to the lovely amazon beside him.

[Clint]

". . . almost too quiet, if you ask me," Empyrean said under his breath to the statuesque woman in the leather flying coat. She nodded, and was about to respond when a thin, attractively vapid-looking young fellow appeared at her elbow.

"I say, I heartily approve of the admittance policy of this particular gentleman's club. Over at the Drone's I'd be listening to Old Bingo go on about his latest infatuation. Whereas here, it would appear I am able to generate one of my own. Nataniel Guest, at your service, Miss, ah . . ."

'Hawkridge, Myra Hawkridge, Mister Guest. Perhaps you have wandered into the wrong club?" A slight frown creased Myra's fine brow.

"Ha, ha. No, no, I do belong, I bally well assure you. In fact, I've been wondering where you all have been for the last several months, what. It's been frightfully busy here with the Whateley Terror, the Bixby Hulk, and the Brighton Wurm, let me assure you. I'll be glad to have some of you back to take up some of the burden. I've an engagement at my aunt's next fortnight, so I shall be unable to save the world for at least the rest of this month." With that he huffed, as though out of breath from this rather long paragraph of speech, and looked at the Lady Hawkridge and Sir Hector with wide, expectant, painfully innocent eyes.