When the time came for Polly's schooling to finish, Fagin sent for her. They met in private, in the Principal's office. He was reading Polly's final report.
'You have first class report, my dear. The Principal is fulsome in her praise of you. Gives you a title of deputy-governess. That's good. With a final certificate of this quality, you should do well. However, my dear, the time has come for us both to cash in on your excellent abilities. I have a very important business associate who is looking for a young lady to carry out a special mission for him. It will be exacting, but enjoyable work for a young lady of your spirit and bearing.'
'What sort of mission?'
'Well, my dear, let is just say a most dangerous and painful one. It involves international travel, with life at the very top. Much excitement.'
'Does it pay well?' Polly inquired.
'My dear!' Fagin chuckled. 'For the both of us.'
First, she was to be tested for her suitability and endurance under torture. Polly laughed at the idea.
'It's more like a James Bond story!'
'Do not mock, my dear. In this line of business, your life may well depend upon your endurance.' Fagin warned her that this man was to be her temporary master, stern and demanding. He had been saving her innocence for just this sort of wealthy international operator.
He gave Polly a visiting card with an address written on it and a date. The address was in fashionable Knightsbridge, London. The date was three days away.
'Present yourself there at ten in the morning.'
'Right, Fagin. I shall miss you.'
'Now, my dear, remember all I've taught you. Don't shrink too soon. Ulysses likes to think he has tamed his women. The harder and more sophisticated they are, the better he likes it. He has a strong arm, my dear, so beware! Obey his orders to the letter. He has no mercy on disobedience. If he likes you, it may be some time before we meet again. If not, we may never meet again! So, good luck, my dear.'
Three days later, the weather had turned to rain. Nevertheless, Polly's taxi managed to draw up outside the main door to avoid her having a lengthy walk. It was an imposing building with an impressive entrance. She was met by a door-man in standard uniform, who checked her name against a card he took from his inside pocket before ushering her into the lobby.
The spacious hall she entered had a marble floor, its centre covered with a circular silk Chinese rug, overhung by a large, cascading crystal chandelier, and dominated by a large sweeping staircase, thickly carpeted and bordered by a wonderfully carved and turned, polished mahogany balustrade, curling up to the next floor. The walls were superbly decorated in panels, each painted with a rustic Gainsborough-like scene. Luxury spilled over. Polly was overawed!
'It's now or never to show your metal, girl!' she told herself.
The doorman spoke in a phone then escorted her to the back of the hall to a lift which ran up a shaft behind the staircase well. The lift itself was rather like an old-fashioned Pullman car; polished mahogany, metal folding doors mirrors and water-colours, with an Axminster carpet on the floor.
'Fifth floor, ma'am,' he said indicating the buttons to the left of the doors.
The lift purred quietly passed the intermediate floor, coming to a hissing halt at the fifth. The doors sighed open. Facing the lift stood a serene-looking blonde lady, probably in her twenties, with excellent posture and bearing. In fact, rather like an army officer in stature, which, as Polly would late discover, is precisely what she was. She smiled warmly.
'This way please ma'am.' Polly was escorted into a deeply carpeted spacious room, expensively furnished in cream and white. Large French windows leading onto a deep balcony overlooking Regent's Park dominated the far end of the room. They were framed by heavy brocade curtains and swagged pelmet.
An elaborate Adams fireplace surround was surmounted with a huge gilt-framed mirror with elaborate wall-lights. Standard lamps, deep sofas and arm-chairs, occasional tables were scattered round the room. A Steinway grand piano in an ebony case stood elegantly in one corner, lid open, music on the stand.
'The music room, ma'am. Please make yourself comfortable. There's coffee on the table in the corner, there.' And the elegant lady disappeared through double doors to the right.
'Phew!' Polly said to herself. 'Some pad! There's plenty of money here, alright!'
Polly went over to study the view. After a few minutes, she heard sounds coming from the room the lady had gone into. It was unmistakable! The faint sound of whipping. Stifled cries followed each lash. Polly's mind was intrigued. What should she do? Was this a part of the interview; an initiative test to see how she might respond to such an incident?
The heavy door muffled any sound, but there could be no doubt in Polly's mind. Would she be interfering in a private affair and so lose her opportunity, or would she lose it if she ignored the activity. Correction figured large in the advertisement, so she decided to bite the bullet and find out what was going on.
