Part 4 (1/2)

'We know when he was mummified.'

'We do? How? Did you find a date of preservation? Or a canning date, like they put on tinned ham? This mummy made in 1921?'

Professor Ayers did not even acknowledge her attempt at wit.

'Better. We found out what his abdomen was packed with.'

'What?' asked Phryne, feeling like the straight man in a comic crosstalk act. They were so pleased and so excited and they really needed her to be astonished and impressed.

'Newspaper,' said Jane triumphantly.

'Newspaper?' demanded Phryne, astonished as required. In fact, more astonished than was required. She really was surprised.

'And we've got some which hasn't been rendered entirely illegible by the body fluids. Here.' Ayers presented a stained and crumpled piece of newsprint.

'Part of a masthead. The something Mail,' read Phryne.

'And here...' Dr Treasure had regained the initiative as Ayers gulped his coffee. 'The piece de resistance.'

'My G.o.d,' said Phryne very quietly. 'Gentlemen, you are amazing.'

On the strip of paper was clearly printed 'July 27th 1857. Attempted Expulsion...' While Phryne was still staring at it, Dr Treasure put down his cup and delivered his considered medical opinion.

'This was a healthy young European man, under twenty-five, with dark hair and probably brown eyes. He was about five foot four and well built, the muscle adhesions on the bones are marked. He was left handed and had been doing hard physical work; there are callouses on his hands. He has a tattoo on his arm which came from a Chinese source, probably a port like Shanghai or Hong Kong. If I had to make a finding of death I'd have to say that there are no gross injuries, all the other bones appear to be intact and he died of homicidal or accidental violence due to a bullet to the head. Right between the eyes. At close quarters, as there is some gunpowder tattooing. After death, soon after, he was mummified in a manner which duplicated the Ancient Egyptian. From the st.i.tches, which are surgical silk, I a.s.sume that the mummifier was a medical gentleman with a knowledge of the cla.s.sics and an experimental turn of mind. How the young man got to be where he was found, that is for the remarkable Miss Fisher to explain.'

They all beamed at Phryne. She was genuinely impressed. But while their research was ended, hers was about to begin.

'Difficult. But possible. And what would you say was the date of death, gentlemen and Jane?'

'Oh, we are in agreement about that too. Somewhere around the date of the newspaper, Miss Fisher. Look for your missing young man in about 1857,' Ayers told her.

'That's the Gold Rush,' said Jane.

'So it is,' said Phryne. 'A very good time for a murder, and a very easy place in which to disappear.'

In the thirteenth year of the reign of the glorious Emperor Lord of the Dragon Throne Kwong Sui of the Ching Dynasty, Mid Autumn festival, 15th day of eighth month.

To his younger sister Sung Mai the ku'li Sung Ma sends greetings. We seem to be travelling so fast that the clouds trail behind us, trying vainly to keep up. I can hear the sailors shouting over a fan-tan game below, smell the stench of the rancid pork fat our fried cakes are being cooked in and the fish which the s.h.i.+p's cat, whom I have named Dark Moon because of her black fur, has dragged out of the bilges and is now devouring on my bit of deck. The ropes which hold the sails are singing.

There ought to be a poem in this.

A small village, dinner is cooking, men are gambling.

The sea G.o.ds noose it and sling it across the waves.

Not one of my best. We have been thirty days at sea and they say that we will arrive before fifty days are gone.

The elder brother bids farewell, with love, to the younger sister.

CHAPTER FOUR.

In her new dress, she comes from her vermilion towers; The light of spring floods the palace.

Liu Yuhsi, translated by Lin Yutang Phryne and Jane returned home with the ticket and pieces of newspaper carefully preserved between two sheets of gla.s.s. Jane was quiet all the way home in the Hispano-Suiza. Phryne wondered if anything was wrong. Delayed shock?

Her fears were dissipated when Jane remarked, 'Perhaps I might rather be a pathologist, like Professor Glaister.'

'Perhaps,' said Phryne. 'Think about it when you have finished your medical training. Dr Treasure does say that it is one speciality where the patients don't complain.'

Jane chuckled. 'Who is coming to dinner?' she asked eagerly. 'Did you say he was a dwarf, Miss Phryne?'

'Yes. A very educated and dignified person, and I have to warn my sister not to insult him. I know you and Ruth too well to think that you might stare and giggle as silly Misses might do. Though, now I come to think of it, neither of you giggle much. And you may not ask him personal questions, Jane. I know that you would really like to and that you mean no offence, but he's a guest and guests are not to be either anatomically examined or interrogated.' Phryne paused. 'Unless they want to be, of course,' she added.

Jane bit her lip. 'You're thinking about Mrs Behan, aren't you?' she asked. 'I did apologise.'

'I know, and that the question of the real colour of her hair was only to be expected if one insists on dyeing grey-brown hair that very metallic shade of red. But it's a known middle-cla.s.s fact that ladies do not dye their hair. Only actresses and pros-t.i.tutes dye their hair. So your innocent question, ”What dye do you use to get that lovely red colour?”, was loaded with social criticism. Conversation is a minefield until you learn the conventions, Jane dear.'

'I'll never learn all the rules,' muttered Jane.

'Yes, you will,' said Phryne. 'Then you can bend them. The best advice I would give you is, ”If under attack, cause a diversion”.'

'A diversion?'

'Yes, trip over the dog, spill a gla.s.s of wine on your attacker, burst into song, challenge your attacker to a duel. And the angrier you get, the lower your voice should be. Never shout unless you are shouting ”Fire!” Enough of this . . . I am not cut out to be a guide to youth. I think youth can get itself into enough trouble without my help, don't you, Youth?'

Jane grinned and agreed.

Lin Chung arrived at the door, dead-heating a gentleman in faultless evening costume whose top hat came up to the level of his second coat b.u.t.ton. Lin, whose savoir-faire was legendary, bowed slightly. The top hat bent in his direction.

'Do I have the pleasure of meeting Mr Burton?' he asked.

'And you, sir, must be Mr Lin. Delighted.'

It was such a deep, cultured voice that Lin regretted that he could not see the gentleman's face. Mr Butler opened the door and admitted them, taking the gentlemen's coats and conducting them into the drawing room with his usual suavity.

Phryne had been thinking about this visit, and the fact that her entire house was built for people two feet taller than her guest. After a consultation with Mr Butler, a suitable chair had been fixed to a wooden crate, covered with blue velvet. This would allow Mr Burton to sit almost at eye level with the guests and incidentally obviate the crick in the neck which Phryne always got from conversing with her friend.

'How kind of you to come,' exclaimed Phryne, allowing Mr Burton to kiss her hand and leading him to his throne. She wanted him to be able to see and appreciate her new dress.

Phryne expected to entertain often in her sea-blue, sea-green rooms and she needed a c.o.c.ktail dress which comple-mented the rooms. In blue or green the clothes had a regrettable tendency to meld into the general colour scheme, so guests saw an uneasy Gustav Klimt vision of their hostess's head and limbs as if emerging from the wallpaper. This clearly would not do. But red or purple were too garish and shocking in the soothing greens and one could not wear cloth of gold all the time.

She had taken the problem to Madame Fleuri, High Priestess of the Mode, who had surveyed the rooms, scribbled notes, accepted a gla.s.s of wine, scribbled more notes and then vanished into her atelier for three weeks, emerging with a dress she called 'Opalescence'. It had cost Phryne a fortune. She had not grudged a penny of it.

Josiah Burton surveyed Phryne with deep appreciation. She had always been elegant, even when-as he had first seen her- wearing a Woolworth's fuji dress with half the fringes torn off. Now she was clad in a slim sheath of steel grey silk. Over it was a cloud grey silk georgette wrap which was almost trans-parent, sewn with paillettes of mother of pearl down to the weighted handkerchief points of the skirt, along the scoop neck and the shoulder straps. A string of pearls swung nearly to her knees, knotted halfway. A panache of pearl sh.e.l.ls was in her black hair. Grey silk stockings and shoes completed the ensemble. She turned to be admired, chiming a little.