Epilogue

The Inspector who walked in through the door of 221B The Esplanade later that night was scarcely recognisable as the weary but dutiful policemen who'd left the house that morning. His tie was hanging loosely, and his hat was crumpled in one hand. His hair was loosed from its usual slicked-back tidiness and he was repeatedly and ineffectually dabbing at his lower lip with a bloodstained handkerchief.

Phryne, on first sight of him, rushed to help but was fended off with a gesture; he edged out of his raincoat and placed it and the mangled hat on the stand by the front door. Mr Butler would doubtless have a fit when he saw the state of them.

"Jack, let me at least get you a drink." He had collapsed into an armchair, so she bustled with glass and single malt, pressing the result into his hand. He took a hefty slug that showed no respect whatsoever for the distiller's art, and sucked in air through his teeth at the shock to his palate and the cut on his lip.

"Can I get you something to eat? Mr B left some sandwiches in case you were hungry."

"No, it's fine, please don't fuss," he said, head back, eyes closed.

She knelt beside him and took his free hand. "I'm not fussing, Jack dear, I'm trying to make sure you don't collapse on the way up the stairs."

It was a feeble joke and it failed to raise a smile. Instead, he sat up, drained the rest of his whisky and extracted his hand from hers.

"I need to go and check that the doors and windows are locked."

"Really, Jack, there's no need. There's no need for you to do anything but come to bed."

"But we still haven't found out who broke into the house."

"Oh, no, that's fine. The intruder was Lin Soo, Lin Chung's niece, and she's going to be my new maid. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you."

"You … meant to tell me." He dropped his head into his hands, eyes closed, wishing to be anywhere but there. "I suppose I should be grateful that you thought of me."

"Jack."

He looked up at her, quite beaten. He loved her; but at that moment, he was out of resources.

"There's something else I've been meaning to tell you."

He rested his head on one hand, eyes covered, and waited. There wasn't much she could say that would lift him out of what wasn't so much a Slough, more an Abyss of Despond.

"It's more than two months since I last had the curse, and the martini I poured myself tonight tasted like paint stripper. I think all that practice has finally paid off, darling. Sleeplessness might be something we have to get used to. We're going to have to learn to handle it better. I'm sorry too. And I do love you, Jack."

Apart, possibly, from that. She found herself dragged from her position on the floor onto his lap.

After a little while, she had to tap him on the shoulder and squeak that oxygen was probably useful; so he relaxed his crushing grip a little and made do with kissing her.

Quite a long time after that, she drew back and reminded him that it was Past His Bedtime.

He agreed, and lifted her, giggling, into his arms to carry her up the stairs.