Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

1 0 Kerry Greenwood
Royal Doulton cups were mismatched to bone china saucers.
Dr. Treasure’s household, Phryne thought, was not short of a
shilling.
‘Sorry it took so long, it was the chap next door wanting to
talk about the rates, and when people around here talk about
rates the conversation can get positively passionate. Will you
be mother?’
Phryne, resigned to deferred explanation, poured the tea.
It was good tea and there was tea cake to go with it. Dr.
Treasure informed Phryne that he had come to Australia because
he had been in the Great War and couldn’t bear Europe.
‘The fields look green, but they are bloodsoaked: for the
longest time men have been killing each other in Europe, and I
was sick of it. So I came here. Australia has no history. I like that
in a country.’ He made a broad gesture, distributing cinnamon
and sugar. ‘It’s spacious and it’s civilized. They don’t trust chaps
like me here, and they have good reason. Look what science did
in the war,’ he said soberly. ‘We found new and horrible ways to
kill people. I decided that we had to be useful, or there was no
excuse for us.’
Phryne murmured agreement. His fresh face and bright eyes
were charming.
‘Funny thing,’ he said, ‘I heard a rumour that someone
had actually succeeded in doing this, but I discounted it. It’s
a philosopher’s stone, you know, an impossible dream. Now, I
have the other reagents, acid and a salt, and if I just pour them
into the mixture very gently—’ he did this without spilling a
drop—‘now all we have to do is wait. Shall we have some more
tea?’ he asked chattily.
‘What are we waiting for?’ asked Phryne, refilling his cup.
‘Why, for polymerization. Should be visible any tick of the
clock—if the formula works.’
‘I can see something,’ said Phryne.
‘Yes, there’s the little chap,’ commented Dr. Treasure.
The mixture was thickening before Phryne’s eyes. As the
reagents mixed, they were forming some sort of compound. It