Chapter Two
Mr Butler circled the Hispano-Suiza outside the Chief Commissioner's house at a stately pace, and decanted his very elegant passengers before moving off to seek a patch of shade, his pipe and a newspaper.
The Inspector and the Honourable Mrs Robinson (as the wording of their invitation had it) proceeded in an orderly fashion to the conservatory, where their hosts had assembled a suitably entertaining and illustrious selection of Melbourne society to greet the visiting dignitary from England.
Sir Andrew Pallister was holding court in a corner of the room when they arrived, and surrounded by a group which was markedly young and female. Jack kept his counsel when they observed the Englishman's chosen – or perhaps, self-selecting – company, but Phryne wrinkled her nose delicately.
"Don't you think, Jack, that there are few things less attractive in this world than an elderly roué?" she muttered. He couldn't help but agree, and observe that his own spouse was immune to said roué's dubious charms. He helped himself to two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, gave one to Phryne and turned to the gentleman standing near them, who was also eyeing the group around Pallister with a jaundiced expression. His uniform proclaimed his RAAF status, and he introduced himself as Wing Commander Cedric Matthews.
"And that's my wife, Vera," he indicated with his glass. "The blond in pale blue, currently hanging on every word uttered by the cause of this shivoo."
Phryne immediately set herself to defuse the situation by charming the Wing Commander. Jack admired her tactics and contented himself with the role of bystander.
Eventually, Pallister was detached by his hostess from the coterie of female fascination and taken on a tour of the room. When he fetched up at the Robinson group, he was immediately enamoured of the lady. Phryne's response was to give him her 100-watt smile, while at the same time tucking her hand into Jack's arm in a proprietary fashion.
Out of your league and unavailable could not have been more clearly and charmingly telegraphed if it had been a poster on the front of a ... very charming freight train.
Foiled in his first prey, he turned to the second.
"Wing Commander! I have often wished I knew how to fly. It must be marvellous to be lighter than air," he rhapsodised fulsomely.
Matthews winced and both Jack and Phryne forgave him for failing to suffer this particular fool gladly.
"Heavier. We don't stop being heavier than air, Sir Andrew, we just apply some science to the challenge."
Pallister smirked. Being Incapable of Error, he could afford to.
"Of course, of course, my good man." His expression became calculating. "I don't suppose ... but no, of course not ..."
Fortunately for Pallister, at least one person in the group had manners.
"Would you like me to take you up in one of our kites while you're here?" asked Matthews.
Jack glanced at him sharply – a punch-up at the Chief Commissioner's party looking both undesirable and increasingly probable – but his expression was bland.
Pallister was positively gushing. "My word, would you? That would be ... simply tremendous" he quavered.
"Of course," replied Matthews, with a slight smile. "It would be my pleasure. Would tomorrow around midday suit?"
To give him his due, Phryne thought, Pallister's excitement was genuine. He demonstrated it further by boasting to everyone he subsequently met at the party of the "treat" he was to be given.
She gave Matthews a quizzical look. He returned it inscrutably.