The Priory of Finchelsea, XXIV

Sir Richard Arcos' private jet soared through the Welsh skies, headed for Cardiff. Lil was very glad to be sitting up front with him, acting as copilot, not sitting in the back listening to Sir Teabag Sumner being a bore.
"Cardiff in early summer," Sir Richard mused. "when the streets are full of jolly Welsh folk, when students are sunbathing in the parks..."
"I wish I was," Lil sighed.
"Where is your sense of adventure, lass?"
"Sorry, I just prefer to be the one doing the chasing. Look, we are trying to clear my name, aren't we?"
"That's the general idea, yes. I wish we had your 'plane, lass, it's so much more impressive than this one."
"It is," Lil agreed. "But it's parked in a private hangar in Norfolk, and it would take too long to go and get it. Besides, yours is a pretty impressive 'plane too."
"But of course. Only mine can't land on a sixpence, while yours can."
"On a dime," she corrected him.
"On a dime then, dear lady. Aha! The spire of Llandaff!"
Lil looked and saw the form of the Cathedral church of Cardiff gleaming in the sun. Another stage in the journey, she thought, hopefully the place where she would be cleared.