Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds 1
‘Miss Fisher?’ Dr. Treasure was tall, lanky and English. He
had a mop of brown curls and a shy, endearing smile. He looked
much younger than Phryne had expected.
‘Detective Inspector Robinson told you about my qualifications,
and you are thinking that I am too young,’ he said, and
sighed. ‘I’m actually thirty-seven, but I can’t even convince
passport officials about that. Sit down, if you please, Miss Fisher.
You aren’t the Hon. are you? Duchy of Lancaster, eh? I believe
that my father knows your father. Jack said you had a fascinating
problem for me. Do tell.’
Phryne produced the translation, and Dr. Treasure spread it
out on his bench. He was surrounded by a forest of glass tubes
and retorts. Phryne wondered how many of them had derived
from alchemy.
Dr. Treasure was groping for something, never taking his eyes
off the string of letters and numbers. Phryne put a pencil into his
hand. He began to scribble on a notepad, tore it off, screwed it up
and threw it onto the floor, paused, scribbled again and laughed.
‘By God, it’s so simple,’ he said.
‘What is it? And I have to tell you, this is involved in a murder
investigation and you cannot have it.’
‘Not my field,’ he said absently. ‘Anyway, wouldn’t think
of it, old Jack’d have my skin drying on a fence—isn’t that the
expression? I think I’ve got butadiene, yes, but this uses styrene,
got some potassium persulphate, mercaptan, yes, this is going
to niff more than a trifle. Basically we just bubble a couple of
gases through cold water and then add all the other things, stir
slowly, and—voila. Or not, as it happens. Now, can we make
it? No reason why not. Just a moment.
‘We begin by bubbling this gas through nice clean distilled
water,’ he said, doing so. ‘Then we add the soap and other things,
and might I suggest you put on that mask?’ He indicated with
an unoccupied finger an ex-army gas mask. Phryne slipped the
straps over her head and breathed in a scent of charcoal and
rubber. Dr. Treasure beamed. ‘Good. Mercaptan is the absolute
essence of things which stink.’