Revenge of the Adventurer! 23.

"Galliard!" Miss Farrow exclaimed in disbelief. I didn't blame her. Until all the pieces fitted together, I'd never have believed that Galliard was behind this. He'd recieved death-threats, after all. But death-threats can be faked, especially by a man who makes movies, a man who's used to manufacturing believable fiction!
"Of course! It all makes sense. Scruff, you've read the script. What did you think of it?"
"It sucked. It's horrid."
"And how likely is a script like that to bomb at the box office?"
"I'd say about one hundred per cent."
"Exactly. Now Galliard's not a fool. He's made successful films. So why is this one so bad?"
"Because he hates John and everything John stands for as represented by 'The Adventurer'," Molly Farrow replied to my question. She was beginning to see the light.
"Exactly! But at the same time he knows it's going to be a bad film. If he were to actually release a turkey like that it would affect his reputation as a film-maker. But if production were broken up by a series of murders, it wouldn't be his fault."
"The police are investigating," Miss Farrow objected.
"Exactly. But as Mr. Barton said, Galliard used to write crime fiction. He's been planning this very carefully. First he engineered that argument between Stock and Barton, making sure they'd be witnesses. Then he had Stock murdered. He engineered those death-threats and arranged for them to be sent to him. We already know that the killers were hired through an East End gangster..."
"You ARE an amateur sleuth," Miss Farrow said admiringly.
"Thanks. I'm a very careful investor. Well, last night Galliard must have arranged for his two leads to be killed..."
"What about the barge?" Scruff asked.
"I'm not sure," I replied. "But I know it fits in somewhere." Actually I did know. Galliard must have seen me and called a man in to deal with me. The other two had been reporting back to him that they'd failed. And with the stars still alive, Galliard had no excuse to shut down the film.
"Fortunately for them, the Girl in Gey had realised they were in danger and her friends stopped the killers. I bet she thought Galliard was threatened too, and that's why she was attacked on his barge. Miss Farrow, did you say that Barton's seeing Galliard tonight?"
"Yes," she nodded. "John's visiting him at his Surrey estate..."
"Where I bet Galliard's got a murder and a frame-up ready! Sorry, Miss Farrow, we have to go."
"Yes," she agreed, plainly agitated. "Go! Go and save John from that awful man!"
We ran from the house. Emily sat up as we jumped into the car.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Sis worked out Galliard's the killer," Scruff explained.
"Galliard!"
"Yes, he's insane, mad with Jealousy and hatred towards John Barton. He wanted to destroy Barton, and tonight he and Barton are meeting at Galliard's country estate in Surrey." I started the car. "Come on! We have to get back to London, change, and speed out again the the Grey car. Galliard has to be caught red-handed!"
I drove off at speed. I had to prevent a murder! I hoped that I wouldn't be too late.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 22.

Miss Farrow took us into a palatial drawing-room and bade us sit down, which we did. Scruff took the hearth-rug.
"We're really looking into this whole film business," I explained. "I'm a very wealthy girl, and I liked the re-runs of 'The Adventurer' on TV when I was small, so I took a look at this film. I didn't know what it was then, but we found out. Then there was that murder and these attempted murders. So... I'm sort of intrigued."
"You're an amateur sleuth, Miss Hill, admit it!" Miss Farrow laughed.
"Jane, please. I feel terribly old when anyone calls me Miss Hill."
"Jane then. Jane and Scruff. I'm guessing Scruff's a nickname, right?"
"Right," Scruff laughed. "it's really Lilian, but no-one's called me that since I was a LOT younger."
"Let me get some tea or coffee for you two."
"Tea for both of us," I said quickly. Miss Farrow went to get it.
There was no mistaking that she was a nice person. She was wealthy, but the sort of wealthy lady who invites the village and the parish church to hold events in her house and gardens, who holds garden-parties for the ordinary village folk. In short, my kind of wealthy lady.
"She's not involved," I said. But then, I'd thought that about Barton too. And Walker was far too badly injured, mentally and physically, to hire men to do the killing. No, he'd have done it himself. Something didn't add up, and I was worried. I was missing something, and I didn't know what it was.
"Tea," Miss farrow announded, handing us our cups. We thanked her (being well brought-up girls).
"I'm sorry," Miss Farrow said as she sat down. "But that film's hurt all of us, John, Norman and myself. It's a deliberate attack on everything the Adventurer stood for, and that evil man's laughing at us. He's trying to make us a joke!"
"Why?" I asked.
"He hates John and the fact that John's books sold whle his didn't. But there was a reason for it. His books were awful, sordid little books about sordid little people doing sordid little things. John had an ideal, and the Adventurer was that ideal. So now Galliard wants to drag that ideal through the mud! And now these attempted murders linked with the name of the Adventurer! Tonight John's going to have a final meeting with Galliard, at Galliard's home in Surrey."
It was then all the pieces of the puzzle dropped into place. I jumped to my feet with a yell of alarm and surprise.
"Jane?" Miss Farrow asked.
"I know who the criminal is! Oh my..."
"Who?" Scruff asked.
"It's Galliard! It's been Galliard all along!"

Revenge of the Adventurer! 21.

"Mogul sword-torture?" I asked Emily as we decended the fire-escape again. "I didn't know you'd been trained in torture techniques."
"Confidentially, I haven't. But he didn't know that."
I laughed.
"Emily, you're amazing!"
"Thanks. You're pretty good yourself. He was one of the men who tried to kill you last night, wasn't he?"
"Confidentially, yes. So, where to now? Mark Conant?"
"No," Emily shook her black smoky head. "Holding's bound to warn him. We go for our original target, Miss Molly Farrow. We might as well, after all."
We rejoined Scruff in the car. She was on some newsgroup posting rude remarks about 'The Adventurer' being a lousy script

Unless John Barton gets on this project and supplies a totally new script, this film's going to be awful. So long as Galliard's name appears on it and Barton's doesn't, stay well away.

"Are you sabotaging the film?" I asked her sweetly as I put my trouser-suit on over my Girl in Grey outfit.
"Of course. What else would I do, Sis?"
"Nothing. Do you really think that Galliard can't make this a good film?"
"It's too personal, Sis. He hates Barton, and he's set out to destroy Barton's 'Adventurer'. That means it can't ever be a good film."
"Sis, you're so right," I told her, ruffling her untidy black hair. Emily jumped in the back of the car.
"Molly Farrow's it is," I declared.
Molly Farrow lived in Essex, so in Bethnal Green we were headed in the right direction. It was a good drive, and we got there in plenty of time.
She lived in a 1920s house in the Essex countryside, a nice sort of imitation Tudor place that looked just like the real thing provided you'd never actually SEEN the real thing.
I parked outside, and this time we left Emily in the car (she might have scared Miss Farrow) and Scruff and I walked to the door. I rang the bell and waited.
The door was opened by a woman in her sixties. I recognised Molly Farrow at once. The youthful beauty of her TV years had matured, and she wasn't ashamed of her age.
"Miss Farrow?" I asked, just to be on the safe side. She laughed.
"Yes. You must be fans!"
"Jane and Scruff Hill," I said. "You can probably guess which is which."
"I think I can. So, how can I help you?"
"It's about the recent crimes committed in connection with the new film 'The Adventurer," I said. Miss Farrow's face darkened.
"Don't talk to me about that awful film. I was Lana Coll, now that Galliard man wants to destroy my character. I read it on the internet."
"I posted it," Scruff confessed.
"You did?" Miss Farrow laughed. "You little saboteur! Come on in!"
Scruff can be REALLY useful sometimes.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 20.

I drove to Bethnal Green and parked in a nice quiet alley. There I changed into my Girl in Grey outfit, while Emily checked her crossbow. Scruff remained in her day clothes. Apparently, while she has no objection to wearing her Robin outfit by night, she won't wear it by day. We left her in the car doing weird and woderful things with the computers.
James Holding lived in an old terrace that had seen better days. His flat was on an upper floor, but I know everything there is to know about getting into a building by means of the fire escape.
Emily, now visible again, and wonderfully black and smoky, climbed the fire escape ahead of me. If she was right, and Holding had been the man she'd shot, he'd be terrified when he saw her and might even consider confessing everything to us.
Chance would be a fine thing!
Emily tried the window. It was locked, but rotten, and she smashed it to pieces.
We weren't terrible subtle. All right, we weren't subtle at all. Emily vaulted in first, and I followed.
Holding was in the living-room. He'd jumped to his feet, but as we crashed through the bedroom door, he went for a gun. One of Emily's bolts stopped him, hitting his right hand and pinning it to the table. Holding yelled in pain and fear.
"You probably remember me," Emily told him. He nodded, afraid.
"The... the... the Outsider!"

"You DO remember me! I'm so glad! Now, last night you tried to kill Jackson Hughes, and I shot you. Someone hired you to do that. If you know who it is, you're going to tell me, or I'll do some more shooting. I've also got a nice big sword and a few knives that I can use imaginitively on you. How does that sound? Painful? I'm so glad it does!"
Holding was gibbering quietly now. I smiled.
"Well, Mr. Holding?"
"You... you're dead! I saw..."
"Oh," I scowled. The dirty little... He'd been one of the men who'd thrown me in the dock to drown.
"No. I don't wear a cat costume for nothing. I've got nine lives. You, on the other hand, just have one, which the Outsider here will make very uncomfortable for you if you don't 'fess up and tell us who hired you."
"I don't know," he said sullenly. Emily shot him in the left elbow.
"Bad answer," she told him. "Unless you want me to apply the Mogul sword-torture?"
I heard her draw her sword. Its point touched Holding's throat.
"It may LOOK black and smoky like me, but I assure you it's real," she told him threateningly.
"I'll talk!" he cried. "I was hired by a man called Mark Conant! He's a local gangster! I don't know any more! I swear I don't!"
"I believe you," Emily sheathed her sword. Then she retrieved the bolts that were stuck in Holding. "Now, you need to see a doctor."
We left with another link in the chain.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 19.

Once again I was glad I hadn't just given Galliard the brush-off when I'd found out how bad his film was (or when Scruff decided to sabotage it online by posting large chunks of the worst bits of the script. As Jane Hill, fantastically wealthy potential backer of the film, I could practically come and go as I pleased at the studio. And right now I wanted to come.
Scruff was with me, of course. She really is my secretary, even though she looks nothing like one. Scruff doesn't pretend to be what she isn't, and that means that she can be a little odd as a secretary (okay, VERY odd). Still, she's great, and she does a lot more than anyone who wasn't my sister would be allowed to do (like helping me as the Girl in Grey). Emily came too, though she faded from sight as we approached the studio entrance. I smiled sweetly at the guard, and he let us in. After I'd parked the car Emily went off to snoop around while Scruff and I went to see Galliard. He had added four huge minders to his staff, but otherwise seemed to be fit, healthy and not very pleasant.
"Miss Hill!" he greeted me with a smile.
"Mr. Galliard! I saw the news!"
"Yes. Of course they messed it all up. The Girl in Grey was trying to protect me, not to kill me. She got thrown in the dock for her pains, and I hope she survived."

It was nice to know someone cared.
"Three attacks, on yourself and your two stars," I said. "That means someone IS trying to destroy this film."
"But who'd do something as violent as trying to kill people to wreck THIS film?" Scruff asked. I shot her a warning look, knowing EXACTLY what she meant.
"I don't know. Neither do the police, and they're trying to get the Girl in Grey, which is a false direction," Galliard shook his head. "But I assure you, Miss Hill, the film will be going ahead. I will not bow to intimidation."
"Any ideas?" Scruff asked.
"Miss..."
"Just call me Scruff, everyone else does."
"Scruff, it's not for me to speculate."
"Okay," Scruff smiled. "You don't think Barton might be involved?"
"He hasn't the money to hire men," Galliard answered. "But then again, he DID threaten me..."
"How would he have known your address and the two hotels your stars were in?" I asked.
"I don't know..."
"I can't commit to invest in a film that might not go ahead," I told Galliard. "I want to, but I'm sure you understand my situation."
Galliard nodded.
"I think I do, Miss Hill. Well, good day. As you can imagne I'm very busy right now."
I let him be busy. We returned to the car to find Emily already there (Scruff accidentally sat on her).
"Ow!" Emily protested.
"Sorry." Scruff got off her.
"What did you find?"
"Our man's address. I have a few questions to ask him. And a sword to back them up with if he doesn't co-operate. Bethnal Green, and step on it."

Revenge of the Adventurer! 18.

I drove straight back home, where I could get out of my wet costume and take myself off to my nice warm bed while Scruff and Emily amused themselves. I had a lot to think about. Who was behind these attacks? Why had they REALLY done them? I couldn't get out of my mind a nasty little suspicion that I was missing something. I took a very long, very warm bath and actually managed to get the stagnant dock smell out of my hair. Wonderful! Cats don't like water, and my cat costume indicates the truth about me on that point as well!
While Emily went out to do whatever she does at night, Scruff and I turned in. I didn't sleep well. I kept dreaming about being thrown off the boat, and the cloaked figure appeared before me time after time. Each time it took off its mask revealing a different face.
I was so glad when morning came and I could go and make myself a huge mug of coffee and sit down to watch the morning news. Starting with the latest from Iraq, as usual. But I suppose they have to report something, and so long as it isn't Ken Livingstone calling for my capture that comes on first, I'm great with it.
It came on second, much to my disgust. My boots were displayed by a police officer (and they're such nice boots too), while an appeal was made for information. Ken Livingstone declared that I was probably in with the masked men - never mind that they'd tried very hard to drown me!
"Once again the mysterious Girl in Grey has demonstrated that she's a criminal, not the crime-fighter she wants people to think she is," Livingstone said. "It seems she was leading an attempt to murder the film-maker..."
I turned the TV off again and sighed.
"Sis?"
"Livingstone saying silly things again. Jumping to all the wrong conclusions. We have to crack this thing soon, otherwise London would get very hot for this little kitty-cat - and I don't mean maybe.
"Good morning," Emily left her room. I've never asked her what she wears - when she's black and smoky like she is it isn't easy to tell - but she looked good. Well, her eyes were nice and bright.
"Emily! Where were you last night?"
"Out. Tracking the man I shot. He managed to get onto a balcony in the hotel, then he took off his cloak and went downstairs where he was picked up by a yellow Ford Focus. I got the plate from the hotel security camera and Scruff hacked into the Police National Computer so we got the owner.
"Who is it?"
"James Holding. He works as a security guard at Galliard Studios. Only he won't be in work today. Someone shot him with a crossbow-bolt."

We had progress!

Revenge of the Adventurer! 17.

The cold water closed over me and I began to sink. But I smiled. I'd had enough presence of mind to do the old Houdini trick of expanding my wrists slightly when the whip was used to bind me. It was a trick that had saved my life before, and I hoped it would save my live again. I hadn't released myself earlier in case something went wrong - and boy, it had gone wrong! I relaxed my wrists and carefully slipped them out of the bonds my captors had put me in. Then I bent to untie my ankles before the air in my lungs ran out.
Free, I floated back towards the surface. Unfortunately the Police don't approve of me, so I couldn't go to them. I just had to swim back to where I'd left my car parked, dry myself off a bit, and go home.
I couldn't do anything about Galliard, either. Dead or alive, he was in police hands now.
I surfaced close to the side of the barge.
"They ran in a hurry," I heard someone say.
"Yeah. Whose boots are those?"
"No idea. Must belong to a girl from the look of 'em. And that belt... Hey! you think they might belong to the Girl in Grey?"
Full marks for observation, officer, I thought.
"Well, we scared 'em off before they could hurt Mr. Galliard. I'm glad he had the sense to call us!"
So was I. Otherwise, nasty men that they were, they'd have tried to kill me in a more efficient manner.
I remained floating in the water by the boat, not wanting to be spotted. When I thought enough time had passed I gulped in air and dived. I swam as far as I could underwater before I surfaced and made my way back to the car. I'd got used to the water, but the last few yards, out of the water, dripping wet on a cold night, weren't any fun at all, and I don't mean maybe. I unlocked the car and opened the boot.
"Sis!" Scruff jumped out of the car, looking very worried. "What happened?"

"I got wet saving Galliard."
"But the Adventurer attacked Alice Slate!"
"He attacked Jackson Hughes too," Emily made herself visible a few yards away and ran over to us. "I shot him twice!"
"When?"
We compared times. The attack on Alice Slate had been first, then the attack on Hughes, and finally the attack on me. Okay, Galliard, but I was the one who got beaten up.
"I know the answer," I said as I wrapped a towel around my wet costume. Scruff smiled eagerly.
"Go on!"
"There were three men. None of them were any of the men we've spoken to. That means they were hired assassins."
"So we try Molly Farrow?" Scruff asked.
"Exactly."
I had a few other questions as well, but Molly Farrow would be a god place to start. Still, hired assassins meant one thing was certain - Barton wasn't behind it. Assassins have to be paid up front, and Barton didn't have the money.
Now it was personal - someone had tried to kill me. And I get nasty when it's personal.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 16.

"Drop the whip," a man's voice said behind me. I dropped it.
"Now, hands up, girlie!"
Again I obeyed. I have a distinct dislike of men who point guns at me.
The man on the deck got up and unfastened my belt.
"Hands behind your back!" he ordered. I did as he told me, and my whip was used to bind my hands behind my back.
"Who's she?" a third voice, this one in pain, demanded.
"An interfering busybody! Tie something heavy to the whip and throw her in the dock!"
I was about to try something when someone hit me in the back of my knees with something heavy. I gasped in pain and went down. Then I was kicked in the face. I hate it when the bad guys do that. One of these days I'm going to get a tooth knocked out, and then there'll be hell to pay! I fell forward onto the deck with a gasp of pain.
Someone put a very heavy foot in my back and kept it there. I tried to think and break through the pain. On the plus side, my legs were still free.
I kicked out and my right foot connected with something. I heard a bellow of pain and smiled. But the pressure on my back remained.
"Can't you apes fight fair?" I protested.
That made someone mad. he grabbed me by the front of my suit and pulled me roughly to my feet again. My cowl was pulled down, and I gasped with shock.

"Look at her," one of the men laughed. "Cute an' blonde!"
"Touch me, and I'll bite you," I warned. He didn't react well. No, he punched me in the face. Then he let go of me, and I fell back onto the deck, moaning in pain. I hate bad guys. They've got no respect for a girl.
Someone grabbed my legs and took my boots off.
"Careful!" I protested. "Those are expensive!"
"Oh yeah? Well isn't that a shame! You're going to visit the fishes, girlie, and you won't be coming up."
"They'll be better company than you!"
I got kicked for that remark. Then I was held down again while the heavy weight was tied to my whip
Something was wrong, I thought as my captors tied my legs. Why were they so insistent on drowning me, rather than going down to kill Galliard? Was it just because I'd made them mad?
"Hey!" I exclaimed. "If you're going to kill me, who hired you?"
"You talk too much!" was the only reply. I was punched several times, picked up, and carried over to the side of the barge, just as police sirens broke in on the relative tranquility of Docklands.
"Dump 'er and run!" one of the men cried. I caught a glimpse of darkclothes, then I was bundled over the side. I fell through space, and them I hit the water. I gulped in a lungfull of air as water shot up around me. Then the waters of the old dock closed over me and I sank rapidly.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 15.

[back to me, your Girl in Grey]
While Scruff and Emily were having their adventures, I was freezing on top of a houseboat in Docklands. I was starting to wish that my costume had some sort of internal heating system when I felt someone board the barge. It was just a slight motion, but more than enough for me to detect. At once I prepared for action. Looking up I saw a dark figure on the deck. It wore an all-enveloping black cloak and a black trilby hat. That was more than enough for me to think it suspicious, but the fact that whoever it was carried a revolver confirmed my suspicions at once. Law-abiding citizens don't go around dressed up like that and carrying guns.
I carefully drew my faithful bullwhip from my belt and palmed a small flash-grenade. Thrown, it would startle the man and give me an opportunity to disarm him. That I had to do before I could fight - I can't dodge bullets very well.
I waited and watched as he moved over the deck. I had to seize my opportunity as it presented itself.
As he approached my hiding-[place I primed the grenade and threw it, shielding my eyes.The grenade went off, and I heard my opponent cry out in shock and pain. I acted at once. The bullwhip tore the revolver from his hand, and a kick sent him reeling back. I kicked the pistol over the side and into the water of the dock.
The cloaked man drew a knife from the folds of his outfit.
"Why are you protecting that evil man?" he asked.
"I have a distinct dislike to people going around murdering for little or no reason," I replied. "Who are you?"
"I am the Adventurer. That man in the barge would destroy me, pervert me. I cannot allow that to happen, so he must DIE!"
"I'm the Girl in Grey, and I say Galliard stays alive. You've got a problem with him. Well, I don't like him much either, but I can't let you murder him!"
Who was it, I wondered, Barton or Walker? The way the man spoke sounded as if he might be Walker, but I knew Walker limped, and this man did not. I so hoped it wasn't Barton.
"Get out of my way, girl!"
"I can't. Look, I can help. I can convince Galliard to give up the film."
"That's no good! Galliard has to die! They all have to die!"
He lunged forward. I cracked my whip and he fell back, crying out in pain.
"No, this isn't the way!" I declared. "Don't destroy yourself!"
I cracked my whip in front of him. Eyes filled with hate blazed out of the folds of the cloak.
"Get out of my way, or you die!"
Again he lunged. Again my whip drove him back. Bellowing with rage, he looked up at me from where he crouched on the deck.
I countered his next attack with a Judo move and laid him flat on his back. His hat came off and his knife went spinning away across the deck.
"Give it up," I warned. The cloaked figure shook his head.
"Never," he gasped.
Another crack of the whip tore open his mask, and I gasped in surprise.
I saw thick dark hair. And the face of a man I'd never seen before.
"'The Adventurer'," I smiled. "Care to tell me why this stunt?"
"Stop!"
I felt the muzzle of a pistol bore into my spine and sighed.
He'd had back-up!

Revenge of the Adventurer! 14.

Jackson Hughes and his female friend fell back as the cloaked figure loomed towards them.
"I am the Adventurer, and I say you die tonight, Jackson Hughes!"
"I'm the Outsider, and I say no chance!" I replied, making myself visible once more. As he drew a knife, I fired. I never miss. The bolt struck the cloaked man in the elbow and he cried out in pain, dropping the knife. I approached across the room, reloading, ready to fire again if I had to.
"Hughes has done nothing to harm you," I insisted.
"Hasn't he? He twisted my character, destroyed my legacy! He is my enemy, and he must always be my enemy until he dies at my hand!"
The man didn't sound sane, but I wasn't sure about him. For all I knew it might be an act. He could be pretending that he was insane. And the pain from where I'd shot him wasn't helping him.
Jackson Hughes had a reputation as a tough guy, but caught between a weird cloaked figure threatening to kill him and me, he was scared. His female friend had fainted, and Hughes looked on the verge of fainting himself. I found that kind of amusing - after all, he was the tough guy. But then, I do look kind of scary.
The cloaked killer's eyes were narrow slits, just visible through the folds of his mask. I saw hate in them, knowing my own glowing red eyes don't betray any emotion.
"Do you want me to shoot you again?" I asked him politely. Of course my shooting or not shooting him would be more dependent on his behaviour than his answer.
He turned and ran back into the bedroom. I fired after him, and I heard him cry out as my bolt hit him. Then a window shattered.
I ran after him.

What I found was a broken window. Yet, when I looked down, there was no broken body on the street. Somehow the would-be killer had escaped being splattered on the road below. Well, it would save the city a nasty job. Scraping dead pople off the streets isn't very nice when they've fallen from a great height.
"W...w... wha... what... what ha..." Jackson stammered behind me.
"He was going to kill you, I stopped him," I replied simply. "I'm the Outsider, I have fantastic powers that I use to fight crime. You might want to call the police."
I vanished, knowing that Jackson wasn't in any further danger. Two police officers crashed into the room, and I made my exit. I don't like publicity.
So this 'Adventurer' had struck at Hughes. But I had a clue now. I'd shot him twice. Even if my second shot had only winged him, the first would have put his right arm out of action. So whichever of our suspects had an injured right elbow was our killer.
I'd had a good night.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 13.

Hello, it's The Outsider here. As you remember, I was set to guard Mr. Jackson Hughes, the man Galliard hired as the lead in his sorry film. Hughes was staying at the Dorchester, which is a really expensive place - the sort of place the twelve-year-old daughter of missionaries would never stay in a million years. It's not like missionaries in India get paid much, after all.
But then, after Ramdit Ghul murdered my parents, I lived in his palace, which is almost as swanky as the Dorchester.
Being able to turn invisible is really useful when you're watching someone. You can literally stick as close to them as a shadow. But it's not a good idea, because when they step back unexpectedly you get bruised toes. Which isn't much fun.
Jackson Hughes isn't an A-list star. He's a C-list star from New Zealand who's trying to get into the big time. Which was why he was at the Dorchester - it raised his profile.
I got to the corridor where his room was unnoticed. Scruff had got the room number from the Dorchester's computer. I don't mind saying that I have no idea how she does it, but she's a great member of Jane's team.
I entered Hughes' suite in my normal way - I went through the keyhole as a gas. It's kind of a useful thing to be able to do.
The Dorchester really is posh. They have three staff to every room - yes, every ROOM! Jane would be able to stay there, of course (not that she'd want to, she's got a perfectly good flat in a nice part of London), but this was so unlike all the hotels I stayed in with Mum and Dad that I was rather amazed by it all.

To me a hotel room's just that, a room. Somewhere to sleep and, if you're lucky, somewhere to wash as well. A bed, a chair, a TV that doesn't work properly, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and probably a weird smell thrown in just to make things interesting. Not the Dorchester. Sitting room, luxury bathroom, four-poster bed... this wasn't just a hotel room, it was a small and very expensive apartment.
And one that Jackson Hughes could barely afford, I reminded myself as I faded back into invisibility and found somewhere no-one was liable to trip over me.
The door opened, and Hughes strolled in with a girl on his arm. Typical Jackson Hughes, I thought. He was known as a ladies' man. Except that any girl who'd go back to Hughes' room with her isn't really a lady.
"Jackson!" the girl laughed as he pushed open the door of the bedroom. She unzipped her dress. Great, I thought, I'm underage, I'm not allowed to watch things like this...
Then the girl screamed. A dark figure wrapped in a black cloak loomed out of the darkness of the bedroom.
"I am the Adventurer!" he declared. "And you, Jackson Hughes, you die tonight!"
And that, I thought as I loaded my crossbow, was my cue!

Revenge of the Adventurer! 12.

Scruff here. Sis sent me to watch Alice Slate, lead actress in Galliard's butchering of 'The Adventurer. Unfortunately for me Alice was staying in a room somewhere near the top of the Excel Hotel. That meant I was sitting on the hotel roof , dressed as Robin (as in Batman and...). Don't get me wrong, I like helping Sis fight crime, but sometimes I wish it could be a little warmer - and I don't mean maybe. Not that the costume wasn't quite warm, but it leaves part of my arms exposed, and even wrapped in the cape I still felt cold.
I'd chosen the easy option for watching Alice Slate - I had my laptop with me and it was hooked into the hotel's security cameras, watching the corridor outside her room. Of course, if anything happened I'd still have to get up and do the action stuff that my costume was designed for,but I'm okay with that. Sis keeps me trained for fighting, even though I prefer to be her computer support. I don't really enjoy spending my time of a cold hotel roof in Docklands watching an empty corridor on a computer screen. Still, I settled down to do my watching.
Then the picture went out.
Great! I jumped to my feet, grabbed the line that I'd already secured in case something happened, and dropped off the roof.
The line stopped me just outside Alice Slate's hotel room. Looking in (she hadn't drawn her curtains), I saw her lying on the bed watching TV. I sort of wished I could do the same thing, but crime-fighting's taking over my life, ever since I moved in with Sis. Not that I mind, of course. It's a whole lot better than school or my old home with the Peroxide Peril (otherwise known as my evil stepmother).
Everything looked nice and peaceful, and I was starting to feel a bit silly, hanging by a rope from the roof of a hotel.
Then Alice Slate got up and went to the door.
It was suddenly foorced in. She fell back before a tall figure in black.
That was when I acted. I pushed myself away from the building with all the force I could muster. As I swung back, my boots crashed throught the window, and I landed on the carpet.
Alice was screaming, looking up at the tall black figure. It was covered from head to toe, a black cloak, black mask, and black trilby hat. And it held a knife in its right hand.
"No!" I pulled something from my belt and jumped at the figure.
Understandably startled by the appearance of an untidy teenage girl in a comic-book costume, the would-be killer paused. I bunged the folding grappling-hook Sis had given me at him, then followed it up with the remote control from the hotel room's TV.
Then I picked up the TV and threw that at him too. It caught him off balance and he fell to the floor. The knife went spinning away across the floor. That gave me an opening. I threw myself onto his prone for and grabbed his cloak.
"Is this a publicity stunt or are you just an over-obsessive fan?" I asked.
Unfortunately I don't pin people to the floor very well. The black-clad figure rose to his feet and threw me across the room. I landed on top of Alice Slate, and the actress screamed. Then the man in black was gone, leving me lying on top of a scared and under-dressed actress.
"Hi," I said cheerily. "Sorry about the window and the TV."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Your bodyguard. Didn't anyone say you had one?"
"What, a pint-sized teenager in a comic-book costume?"
"Look, while you were screaming like a hysterical something, I saw off a man who was about to stick a knife in you!" I protested. "You'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"
"Miss Slate!"
Jumping to my feet, I faced a member of hotel security.
"Hi," I said.
"Who are you? What did you do?"
"I'm a bodyguard assigned to Miss Slate by a party interested in her safety, and I just saw off a man who tried to kill her."
"And I'm Mickey Mouse, 'Robin'! Come on..."
I left through the window. Honestly, that's all the thanks I get for saving a life!

Revenge of the Adventurer! 11.

I dropped Scruff off at the smart modern hotel and watched her, disguised by her black cape and mask, hurry away into the darkness. We make quite a team, in my opinion. Me, Scruff and Emily.
But my target was Galliard. He lived on a converted barge in one of the old docks. It's an idea I like, but a reality I don't. And, as someone once said on the matter, go figure.
I parked the car in a quiet spot where no-one would be likely to notice it, and I locked it so that any car thief who did notice it would get a nasty shock - of the electric kind. Then I headed silently through the docklands, soft shoes silent on the pavements. There was no-one around - I was doing well.

I jumped onto the deck of Galliard's barge. He was at home, and below decks. Part of the problem, I thought, would be making sure he didn't get killed while at the same time making sure he didn't notice me. My weight's a great advantage, of course. And I'm so light on my feet... but enough about me.
The deck of the barge gave me plenty of places to hide, and skylights introduced by Galliard gave me a good view of the interior. I looked in through a lighed one, hoping Galliard wouldn't see me, and that he was alone.
He was there all right, slumped in front of the television, asleep. I sighed. For a man whose life had been threatened, Galliard was curiously unconcerned. Maybe he was stupid. But I had no intention of letting him be killed. Unless of course the Green Man wanted to do it. I let him get away with murder. And I mean literally. He's the only man I've ever felt so daffy about, the only man I could settle down with and have a family...
Then I turned my attention back to Galliard.
The wind was bitterly cold, so I was grateful for my cosy costume. Still, the wind got throught, and I sat down on the deck in a sheltered place, alert and waiting for something to happen. I knew Scruff and Emily, both in their places, would be waiting too, and I wondered which of us would be the lucky one and get some action. Then I wished I'd told Emily not to kill anyone unless she really had to.
Never mind, there was always next time.

Revenge of the Adventurer! 10.

We found Emily had fed the cats (she's a good little Outsider), and had supper ready for us when we got back.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Barton's very nice, Walker's nice, but a little bit crazy," I answered. "He's very protective of his role. That means that if he's the killer he's most likely to kill Jackson Hughes first. You'll have to watch his hotel room tonight."
"I can do that," Emily affirmed. "And you two?"
"Since we don't know for sure that Hughes is the killer, I'll watch Galliard and Scruff's going to watch Alice Slate," I replied.
"So we get the Robin Scruff costume again?" Emily said cheekily. "Why don't you replace the 'R' on your suit with an 'S'?"
"I don't want to give myself away," Scruff replied."
"Good answer," I told her.

We got ready as quickly as we could after supper. Since Emily didn't have the change her clothes, she was ready before the rest of us. We found her on the sofa waiting for us once we were ready, our street clothes on over our costumes. In my secret base we discarded our street clothes, and we were in costume and masked when the powerful grey car roarded away out of the concealed garage. There was no way the cameras would be able to identify us. What was more, we'd be operating within the congestion charge zone, so I didn't have to worry about those cameras either.
Galliard's home was an expensive modern apartment within an old warehouse in Docklands. Hughes was staying at the Dorchester, and Alice Slate was at the Excel Hotel in Docklands.

We dropped Emily off at the Dorchester first. She vanished, and I presume she went inside. It's a handy trick, being able to turn invisible.
"I hope it's not Barton," Scruff said. I agreed.
"Yes, I hope it isn't him. I'd like t buy his character back for him."
"And if Galliard dies, does that prove it IS Barton?"
"No. But I still won't let anyone murder Galliard. For one thing, I'd like to teach him a lesson. I've got a few ideas."
I'm full of ideas, in fact. I wanted to buy back the character of the Adventurer for Barton and finance his next book. I'm a philantropist of sorts, I suppose. Just one who likes to dress up in a tight grey outfit and beat up criminals.
Which is one of my few points of resemblance to Batman.
We headed towards Docklands, where we were going to do our monitoring.
It was goig to be quite a night!

Revenge of the Adventurer! 9.

"Mr. Norman Walker?" I asked. There was no need to ask. His face was still swathed in bandages, hiding his injuries.
"Yes, madam," he took my hand and kissed it. Which was odd enough with me, but when he repeated the action with Scruff, that seemed very funny. Scruff, after all, is hardly that sort of girl.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Scruff, this is my sister Jane. We were just with Mr. Barton..."
"Yes, poor John. He lost almost everything. And that wretched man Galliard used the loss to torment him! Come in."
We entered. Music which had been faint before was now louder and identifiable.
"Hey! That's your theme tune!" Scruff exclaimed. Walker nodded. Looking around I could see everywhere pictures from his days as a star. His days as 'The Adventurer'.
"Of course, Coventry married in the last film," Walker told us. "He was going to move out of London. And this, I think, is the huse he would have bought. It has everything - including the seclusion I need. I was the Adventurer, you know. I lived the life, and I'm still living it. But Galliard wants to cast Jackson Hughes! Pah! Hughes is good at what he does, but he could never be the Adventurer! He's a tough guy, a violent man. There's no humour in him! As for Lana, Alice Slate! She's a loose woman! Lana was pure, virginal, unsullied. But no, Galliard has to cheapen her too. Have you heard of the Midas Touch, Scruff?"
"Yes," she nodded. Apparently Walker preferred to talk to her. "According to legend king Midas could turn everything he touched into gold."
"Well, Galliard has a sort of reverse Midas touch. Everything he touches turns to filth. I wasn't surprised when I heard that Stock had been murdered. Working for Galliard's a big mistake. Yes, I know he makes money, but have you seen his films? No, of course not, you're far too young and much too sensible. Girls your age shouldn't watch them anyhow. Hugely bad idea. Corrupting influence."
"And we don't want Scruff corrupted," I agreed.
"Definitely not. You don't know when you might want her not corrupted again. So keep her away from Galliard. I tell you, he's going to have something terrible happen to him, mark my words!"
I nodded. Walker led us into a drawing-room that was furnished exactly like Richard Coventry's apartment in the TV show (like most shows of the period, it only ever showed one room of the apartment, and definitely not the bedroom). The only difference was that the mirror had been replaced by a blown-up photograph of Walker as Coventry.
He was definitely a suspect, I thought. He clearly wasn't sane any more.

We left him after a rather nice afternoon tea and raced back towards London, Scruff already had the addresses for the three persons at risk of horrible death that night, and forunately all three were in Central London. All we had to do was get home and get ready.
Someone was going to die that night.