Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Raisins and Almonds
‘What does Dad say?’
‘That they’re yids.’
‘Then your dad is a bigoted idiot and you’ll grow up the
same.’ Phryne was furious. The child she had by the ear began
to cry.
‘We didn’t know it was wrong, Miss,’ he pleaded.
‘Well, you know now,’ snapped Phryne. ‘Now get home,
you horrible little ratbags, and if I catch you doing such a thing
again I shall take you all home to your mothers and order the
biggest belting—you won’t sit down for a month. Is that clear?’
She thrust her face close to the terrified blubbering countenance,
and he nodded.
‘Go away right now,’ said Phryne, dropping him and dusting
her hands together. The children ran for their lives.
‘You should not have done that, Miss,’ said the old man
softly.
‘Why not?’ Phryne was not noticeably softened.
‘It will cause more trouble.’
‘If people of goodwill do not act against evil, then they assent
to evil,’ said Phryne sententiously.
The quotation from Maimonides stopped the old man in his
tracks. Phryne looked up into his face.
He was tall and painfully thin, and he moved as though
his bones hurt. The gaberdine was shiny black with age and
inconspicuously patched, and his shoes were broken. His hat
had seen better years and his hair was white. But his eyes were
remarkable, bright, penetrating and deep.
‘Who are you?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Phryne Fisher.’ She did not offer her hand. ‘I am trying to
find a murderer. I need your help.’
‘I cannot help you.’ He turned and began to walk away.
‘Shall I follow you down the street quoting Maimonides?’
she asked, keeping pace with him. ‘This is an evil thing, a young
man dead, and I am responsible for getting a woman out of
prison, which means I have to find the killer. Strychnine, it’s a
nasty death.’