Chapter Ten
Dorothy soon found a mercifully prosaic cardboard box into which Phryne could place the flask, and at an only slightly more dignified pace (Dot being in low heels and Phryne being able to run in most footwear, with the possible exception of stilts, which she hadn't yet tried) they took off after the others.
They didn't have to run far. It turned out that Hawkins, although he might have been the greatest scientist the world had ever known, was no athlete, and had managed to trip on the stairs leading from the science rooms. When they arrived at the great front door of the building, they saw both policemen restraining him, hands cuffed, and dragging him towards the police car.
"Perhaps you'd like to follow us under your own steam, Miss Fisher?" called the Inspector politely as he forced the scientist's head down to enter the vehicle.
"I'll try to find someone to warn about the flask, but then we'll be right with you, Inspector," she promised firmly.
By the time Fisher & Williams had reached City South, though, most of the interesting work had been done; any suggestion that the Inspector had been anxious to have Hawkins safely ensconced in the cells before Miss Fisher was able to get her hands on him was almost certainly an exaggeration.
"Where is he, Jack?"
Perhaps not an exaggeration.
"Locked up, Miss Fisher. Awaiting trial for murder, and hanging."
"I can save you the trouble."
"No, you can create a lot more. He's going to hang, Phryne, and have the chance to contemplate the prospect beforehand."
"He'll try to pretend he was of unsound mind. You know he will, Jack," she fumed.
"If he does, I'm quite sure that the University will be able to produce serried ranks of academics who will vouch for his ability to reason perfectly well. Let it go, Miss Fisher." The Inspector faced her off from the opposite side of his desk.
She gave her inconvenient husband a fulminating look, and left his office abruptly, closing the door with a degree of delicacy that gave a hint of the scale of her anger. Her business partner caught her up as she sat in the Hispano, gazing into space. Dorothy slipped into the passenger seat, and sat next to her in companionable silence.
After a few minutes, Phryne squared her shoulders and looked across at her passenger.
"So, Ellie Spratt can rest in peace, at least."
"Yes, Miss," said Dot. "They'll say the Mass for her and everything. I'm going to make sure of it."
"Thank you, Dot."
Another pause.
"The Inspector's doing the right thing, Miss," offered Dot hesitantly.
At this, Phryne smiled wryly. "He always does, Dot – he always does."