Commander James Bond has been called upon by the House of Windsor to recover the Crown Jewels of England.
(This collaboration is totally unauthorized and its sudden disappearance may be due to action taken by the sinister forces in the literary legal department.)
They say that when the ravens flee the Tower of London the British Empire will have fallen. The regiment of ravens still keep their dark watch over this castle of ancient ghosts, but for one night, the ravens did stir their coal black feathers and look heavenward.
At the changing of the guard, the first alarm was sounded. Six of the Beefeaters lay unconscious at their posts. The security, both the ancient and the modern lay defeated, confounded by minds more clever than their creators. The crown jewels, or at least a measure of them, had been taken. Gone were seven of the crowns, the scepter with its Star of India, and possibly the most perplexing, the Orb of the Royal Church.
The Times ran no story of this crime. The people of London went on with the business of being Londoners. The tourists still toured the Tower of London, unaware that their glimpse through the iron bars was but of rather expensive facsimiles. Big Ben still chimed the hour and Parliament still bellowed and bargained. it was only the encrypted top secret back door communication that brought Commander James Bond once more to the desk of Miss Moneypenny, waiting for permission to pass through that burgundy, tufted leather door that hid the Director from the rest of this world.
The voice crackled through the intercom, "Send in Mr. Bond, Miss Moneypenny. And tell James not to be romancing the ladies in my service."
The rather attractive lady in her proper gray suit, tailored quite snugly around her surprisingly well-tuned figure for a lady of her maturity returned a smile to the voice and then a wink to Commander Bond.
"James, the Director will see you."
"Just how is the old boy doing these days?"
"Not too well. He's been having trouble with his heart and he blames you for much of that."
"Well, I shall try to be be mindful of his delicate condition."
"Please try, James. I would hate to have to break in a new Director. By the way James, I love that new suit. Savile Row?"
"No, Hong Kong actually. A gift from a rather stylish admirer."
The mahogany box buzzed once more, "Well, Miss Moneypenny, is he coming or isn't he?"
"Yes, sir. Commander Bond was just checking on your health."
"James, I haven't time for your charm. Give her a kiss on the forehead and get in here."