It was quite a long letter that Margaret had written. As Phryne opened the envelope she took a deep breath in anticipation of the tales of her father being up to no good and leaving the Baroness with bills to pay and no money to pay them with.

As she read down she began to smile, then to giggle and finally to burst out laughing at the idea her mother had managed to make quite a tidy sum out of having MacKenzie's circus on the pasture, and almost acting as his agent. In fact, Margaret had written that she had taken on the role formally and MacKenzie looked to her to arrange his bookings, see to paying his troupe and letting him have the pasture whenever they were not on tour.

"The circus has bookings for most of the village fetes in Somerset, now, I take a fee and some of the takings for the rent. They even ask me to look over new acts and offer my advice. Really, Phryne, I'm quite enjoying myself."

"What's tickled you?" Jack had been let in by Mr Butler, even though Phryne said he could have a key.

"Letter from mother," she waved the sheaf of papers at him, "come and have a look."

He sat down and took the letter while she poured them both a whisky.

"Well," he passed the letter back to her, "I didn't think that would be the outcome. Seems your mother has quite the business head on her shoulders."

"I wonder if father had told her what he was doing all those years ago he would have been more successful. He always said he didn't want to worry her, her nerves, he said …"

"Isn't he the one that takes the nerve tonic? Isn't that what he said was in that little bottle he carries about?"

"He does," she nodded. "Anyway, she wants me to send him back as soon as possible, evens suggested steerage." She raised her eyebrows.

Jack hummed. "Do you think he'd notice, he doesn't seem to be very observant, which I would have thought a …"

"… thief and conman?" she smiled.

"Yes, well, not for me to say, but shouldn't he be more observant?"

"What makes you think he isn't?"

"Not seeing the marked cards, unable to see a good horse, not noticing you were in the house when he tried to open your safe … and not saying anything about the amount of time I spend here."

"Or that you appear for breakfast and Mr Butler presses your suit," she went to sit next to him and slipped her hand into his. In the two months since Henry had shown up on her doorstep her and Jack's relationship had become stronger, they practically lived together, though nobody said anything out loud; it was probably the best thing to come out of the situation.

Phryne thought she might be in love with him, properly in love, and not just for the moments of intimacy and the amazing lovemaking; with the whole of who Jack was.

If anyone had asked Jack he would have said the same about her.

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Phryne bought her father a berth on the next available ship to England and telegrammed her mother to say he was on his way.

"But Phryne," he whined, "I've hardly seen you."

"Time to go home, father," she checked he had everything in his suitcase, "mother is expecting you. I have telegrammed when you are due to arrive. Don't do anything silly on the way."

Henry huffed and sloped up the gangplank.

Phryne watched him wander along the deck to find his berth, and satisfied he was out of her hair, turned and drove to City South.

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Henry watched her go and scuttled down the other gangplank and disappeared into the crowds. He hadn't thought much above getting off the ship and not going home to whatever arguments he would have with his wife, or the police waiting for him at the docks. He looked around and decided that perhaps he should keep out of Phryne's way, Werribee wasn't too far away and it had a racecourse. Phryne had no idea he had slipped off the ship, if she found out … Henry dismissed the thought, she wouldn't find out.

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"YOUR FATHER NOT ON THE SHIP STOP MOTHER STOP"

Phryne stared at the telegram that arrived six weeks after she saw her father board the ship home.

"I'll kill him," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"Miss?" Dot looked up from her embroidery.

"My father, he didn't get home."

"But you saw him get on the ship."

"Well he either fell overboard, or snuck off before it set off."

"How will you find out, if he fell overboard?"

"I'll contact the agent, they should be able to say if he was on board."

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The agent contacted the ship's purser and the passenger lists were gone through. No Baron Henry George Fisher was on the ship, except for the time he actually boarded. His cabin was empty, never used, and there was no record of him leaving the ship at any ports. He never sailed.

By the time Jack returned from the station she was incensed and had screamed that he was a complete … well, Dot said her language was most unladylike.

"So, he's still in Australia," Jack poured Phryne a drink and sat her down on the couch. "Not here, though, in six weeks we'd have seen him, he's not exactly easy to miss."

"Urgh!" Phryne took a mouthful of the whisky, "how are we going to find him?"

"I'll ring round the stations where there's anything that might interest him, but first I'm going to ring the club."

"I haven't had a bill from them since I put him on the ship," she sighed, "they sent one weekly when he was supposed to be there."

"So, horse racing?"

"That'd be a start," she huffed.

"We'll find him, love," he soothed, "and then we'll have him locked in the brig for the entire voyage home. Best telegram your mother."

Phryne rolled her eyes.

"At least she has money coming in," he reminded her, "she won't be destitute."

"She might even be better off, financially."

"True, let's look on the bright side, eh?"

"I don't understand, though, Jack," she frowned, "I told him mother had sorted out the bother he had got himself into, and even though he said he had no idea what I was talking about, I sensed relief."

"Did you tell him how she had sorted it out?"

She nodded.

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Henry had found himself a little hotel near a stables and spent his days wandering round, talking to the grooms and presenting himself as someone interested in purchasing horses for his stables. He was convinced Phryne wouldn't find him.

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The police officer looked at the poster sent by City South. 'Have you seen this man?" over a picture of Henry, "do not approach, phone Inspector Jack Robinson at City South station in Melbourne."

He had seen him, he seemed an affable enough fellow, but, as his mother always said, 'still waters run deep'. He could be a murderer on the run, or a conman and he was one copper in a backwater. He lifted the phone and asked to be put through to City South.

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Jack sighed with relief. He assured the officer that Henry was harmless but was trying to escape family responsibilities. "We've been looking for him for weeks," he told him, "someone will be over to collect him and return him to his daughter. But please don't speak to him, he'll do a runner again …"

"Sir, if that's what you want."

"And don't tell anyone else, like whoever he's staying with."

"We only have the one place, here, Inspector."

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"Found him!" Jack called through from the hall as Mr Butler let him in.

"Where?" she stood at the door to the parlour. She looked tired, he thought. He knew she wasn't sleeping because when she did she had images of him lying in an anonymous hotel room after losing yet again at cards, or not paying his debts.

"Little place out of the way. Near some stables."

Phryne rolled her eyes.

"I'll go and fetch him."

"Phryne …" he warned.

"I'll go and fetch him, probably have to pay his hotel bill," she reached for her duster coat.

"I'll come to."

"As soon as he sees you he'll do a bunk again," she reasoned. "He's my father. I promise not to kill him, but can you keep a cell for him, I think he'll be easier to keep an eye on if he's locked up, until I can get him on a ship and ensure he stays there."

He thought her argument was reasonable and even though she thought her mother would be better off without him, she wouldn't kill him.

"Well, it should take you a couple of hours to get there, you should be back for dinner. Here's the address."

"I'll have the hotel ring you when I leave."

"Get the local copper to do it, he's the one who found him."

"How?"

"I sent posters out to all the local stations, particularly the small ones."

She kissed him, "love you," she whispered.

"Love you, too," he kissed her cheek. "Drive safely."

"Always."

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The drive was pleasant enough, though the roads were not the best, potholes and narrow places. She found a small place that could provide her with a sandwich and a glass of lemonade to keep her going and carried on until she found the place. She parked behind the pub that she was sure her father was staying at and went inside.

"Oh yes, dear," the landlady smiled. "But he's out at the moment, probably at the stables."

"I'm his daughter," she smiled sweetly.

"Stables are that way," she pointed along the road.

"Thank you. Could you make his bill up, I shall be taking him with me."

"Oh, really?"

"Family matter."

"Do you want his things? I can give you his key, if you like."

"That is most kind of you." Phryne thought that way she could just drive to the stables, bundle him into the car and drive off before he had time to think about it.

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Henry was very good at appearing knowledgeable on things he knew nothing about, so standing there, listening to the groom about the merits of a certain horse and nodding wisely, he was unaware of the Hispano Suiza drawing into the stable yard.

Phryne waited until the groom moved off before she strode up to him and pushed him against a wall.

"Thought I wouldn't find out, hey?" she hissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You were supposed to go home to mother."

"Phryne," he stuttered, "I'm …"

"… conning someone else. Not this time, father, you are coming with me." She grabbed his elbow, digging her fingers in, "get in the car."

"Now listen here, my girl," he harrumphed.

"Don't you 'my girl' me. You have no money, I've paid your bill, get in the damn car …"

"Your mother would be horrified at your language," he glared at her.

"She isn't here to hear me, and she would probably join in. I told you she had sorted out the mess you got yourself into, and I told you how. So, get in the car and be grateful Inspector Robinson isn't here to arrest you."

"For what?" he gasped as she pushed him to the car and into the passenger seat. At least as he didn't drive he couldn't make off with the vehicle.

"Oh, let me see, fraud, theft …"

"I haven't stolen anything."

"Services, except I paid your hotel bill, if I hadn't it would be theft." She slipped into the car, turned on the engine and roared out of the stable.

"Slow down, girl."

She turned and glared at him, and put her foot down even further until the road was such that high speed was dangerous - even for her.

"For god's sake, slow down!" he reached over for the steering wheel as Phryne steered expertly around a hole in the road.

"Hands to yourself!" she shouted back, but he had gripped the wheel and was not letting go, pulling it so they were now heading for a tree.

"Let go, you idiot!" she tried to pull the car back onto a straight line but he pulled even harder and all she could do was close her eyes as they rammed straight into the tree. Her thoughts, as her head hit the window and her ribs hit the lower portion of the wheel, were on the lines of 'Jack will kill me.' Unconsciousness took over and she slumped to the side.

Henry shook himself and gasped at the sight of Phryne.

"Bloody hell!" he coughed, "I've killed her." He struggled out of the car and staggered down the road, with no idea where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there.

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"She should have been back, by now." Jack paced the parlour. "I'm going to see what happened."

All he knew, after phoning the officer in the village was that Miss Fisher had collected her father and roared down the road.

"Sir," Mr Butler handed him the first aid kit. "In case …"

Jack had no words, Dot had wanted to come with him but he said it wouldn't be a good idea, he'd take Hugh, he could drive them back, if it was necessary.

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The light was fading when the headlights hit upon the damaged Hispano Suiza, crushed against the tree.

"Oh no," Jack blinked away the tears filling his eyes.

"Sir, look," Hugh pointed to the figure slumped against the driver's door. Jack was out of the car before he stopped.

"Phryne!" he ran towards her, dreading what he would find. "God, what happened?" He put his hand on her neck and found her pulse – she was alive.

Wordlessly, Hugh handed him the first aid kit. He wiped the dried blood from her forehead and put a temporary dressing over the cut.

"No sign of his lordship," Hugh looked around.

Jack's only thought was that Henry could rot in the bush, for all he cared.

"Pass me that blanket, off the back seat, Collins." Jack held his hand out.

"Suitcase here."

"That'll be the Baron's," Jack huffed.

"I'll put it in the car." Hugh left Jack to gently lift Phryne out of the car and carry her to theirs.

"The Women's, Collins, Dr Macmillan will be there."

"Sir."

"And carefully, this road is rough."

Hugh drove as quickly as he dared in the dim half-light, while Jack cradled Phryne on the back seat.

She groaned.

"Hey," he whispered and stroked her cheek. "Phryne, it's Jack."

"You found us?"

"Only you, love, no sign of your father."

"Probably ran off," she murmured. "Ow."

"Phryne?"

"My head hurts, and my ribs."

"I'm taking you to Mac."

Phryne didn't have the strength to argue.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"He grabbed the steering wheel, he didn't like the speed …" she tried to wriggle her shoulders, "… I wasn't driving that fast, the road's bad so I couldn't, but a little speed was fine, as long as he kept his hands off the wheel. We hit a tree."

"So I saw." He bent down and kissed her, "it's a bit of a mess."

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Mac was just about to leave when Jack appeared, carrying Phryne and telling a nurse he needed Dr Macmillan.

"Oh, er, I expect she's in her office," the nurse gulped.

Jack turned in that direction, pushed the door open with his foot and stepped inside.

"Oh hell, what's she done now," was all that Mac could say.

"More her father's doing, I believe," he lay his burden on the examination couch. "Head and ribs, I think."

"Doctoring now are we, Inspector?"

He shrugged and stood back.

Phryne was now conscious, and able to tell Mac where it hurt and also that she would be perfectly fine at home.

"You were knocked out," Mac huffed and shined a little light in her eyes.

"Ouch!" she hissed, "I was stunned."

Mac looked at Jack. He sighed, "you were out for the count, Phryne."

"Spoilsport."

Mac lifted her blouse and noted the emerging bruising along the bottom of her rib-cage. She gently prodded which elicited a sharp intake of breath from her patient.

"Please, Mac. Dot will look after me, I promise not to go looking for father."

"No, I'll do that," Jack stepped over to the bed. "What do you think, doctor, can she be trusted?"

"No," Mac smirked, "but Dot can, she's more scared of me than she is of Phryne. Take her home, Inspector, rest, Phryne, make sure you drink – not whisky – and eat a little if you can. Let me dress that cut on your head, make sure it's clean then you can go home, I'll make a house call in the morning."

Mac knew it was not ideal, to send her home, but to pressure her to stay in hospital would only frustrate her and wouldn't help her heal.

"I'll let Miss Williams know," Jack tried to look serious.

"Hm."

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Jack carried Phryne up the stairs, closely followed by Dot.

"I'll let you get her settled, Miss Williams," he hummed, laying Phryne on the bed, "I'll bring up some supper, and some tea."

"Jack," Phryne propped herself up on her elbows, "you will stay, won't you?"

"If that's what you want."

"Please."

Dot wondered on the wisdom of this, Miss Phryne was supposed to rest, but she held her council. Phryne noticed the stern look on her face and wondered if she thought she and Jack made love every night. They didn't, he had to work and she wasn't a nymphomaniac, no, tonight all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and sleep off the headache she had.

Dot helped her out of her dusty clothes, ran her a bath at her request and laid out her nightwear.

"It's ok, Dot," Phryne sank into the warm, slightly perfumed water, "I'll be fine."

"Your towel is here, Miss," Dot laid it on a chair by the bath. "You're sure you won't pass out, with the warmth?"

"No, I just want to get the dust off me. Leave the arnica for my bruises, will you?"

"Of course."

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Jack pushed the door open with his foot and carried a tray of tea, toast and lightly scrambled eggs for them both. It was light and easily digested and Mr Butler's suggestion.

"Perfect," Jack agreed, "a full dinner probably wouldn't sit very well, tonight."

"That you, Jack?" she called, trying to sound cheerful.

"Were you expecting anyone else?" He poked his head round the screen.

"I thought it might be Dot, checking up on me."

"I've brought tea, toast and scrambled eggs, how do you feel about that."

"Just about all I can stomach, tonight," she sighed and tried to lever herself up.

"Want a hand?"

He pulled the plug and gently helped her up, wrapping the soft towel round her. She nestled against him and let him start to dry her off. She felt rotten and there was no point in trying to laugh it off. Her head hurt, her ribs hurt and she ached all over.

"Come on, love."

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She ate a little, drank some tea and let Jack smooth the arnica over her bruises.

He let her get comfortable, leaning against his chest with his arms around her.

"Try and get some sleep," he kissed the top of her head, "we'll look for him tomorrow."

"What will you do, when you find him?"

"Lock him up on a charge of dangerous driving."

"I was driving, Jack, father doesn't drive."

"It was his fault you hit the tree, he pulled on the wheel, that's what you said, therefore he was driving. If I can think of a better charge I'll use that."

"Attempted murder?"

"That'll do."

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The house was in darkness as he snuck up the front path. He picked the lock, it too him some time, he was out of practice and let himself in. The door clicked closed behind him and he felt his way to the parlour nudging the plant and making it rock on its stand. Phryne no longer needed the money in her safe, he'd just help himself and leave, no one would be any the wiser.

A lamp on the mantle-piece gave him enough light to see what he was doing and he set to listening for the tumblers falling.

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"Jack," Phryne whispered and nudged him in the ribs.

"Ugh!"

"There's someone downstairs."

Jack sat up and listened.

"I heard the plant stand wobble."

He slipped out of bed and pulled on his robe. If he was to confront a cat burglar he was going to be decently dressed.

"Stay here." He murmured.

Ordinarily, Phryne would have been up before him, grabbing her little gold pistol and sneaking down the stairs before he was properly awake, but tonight she was in no fit state to confront anyone.

Silently, his revolver ready, Jack tiptoed down the stairs and met Mr Butler at the dining room door, the man having been disturbed by the same noise his mistress had heard. Jack put his fingers to his lips, pointed at the door and motioned that as he opened it Mr Butler was to switch on the light.

There were no creaky hinges in the Fisher house, Mr Butler saw to that, or creaky floorboards, so the would be robber did not hear them or notice they were there until the lights went on and Jack cleared his throat.

"What?" Henry George Fisher turned round, "bloody hell."

"You?" Jack yelled, "you bastard!" He drew back his fist and punched the Baron in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor and knocking over a chair.

"Jack?" Phryne stood at the parlour door, unable to resist seeing who was trying to help themselves to her possessions. "Oh."

"You hit me!" Henry shook his head to clear his vision.

"You tripped." Jack hauled him up.

"of course he did," Phryne hid a smirk in her hand.

"You saw him Mr Butler," he rubbed his jaw.

"I'm sure you tripped when you turned round, Baron, easy done."

"Would you call the station, Mr Butler," Jack pulled Henry's arm up between his shoulder blades.

"What are you doing here, father?" Phryne leant against the door jamb, looking casual but in reality it was holding her up.

"I thought you were dead." He blinked at her, the realisation hitting him.

"You abandoned me on a seldom used road, after making the car hit a tree. Now you seek to take my money – just how low can you go?" She moved to a chair and sat down, "why do you do these things? What have I done that you should leave me unconscious and then come and rob me?" tears began to trickle down her face.

"You're dead," Henry whispered, "I saw you."

"No, I'm not dead, but you are, to me. I want nothing more to do with you. I'm not bailing you out of this. You caused a traffic accident, left me for dead, you have attempted robbery, you can rot in jail for all I care."

"Your mother …"

"Is better off without you. If you'd stayed on the ship none of this would have happened. She's dug you out of the hole you made with the circus, but you wouldn't listen …" her head ached, she felt sick.

"Miss," Dot had slipped silently to her side having heard the commotion, "let's get you back to bed." She helped her up.

"Stay with her, Miss Williams," Jack pushed Henry to the coat stand in the hall and fished his handcuffs out of his coat pocket.

"Inspector." She nodded and guided Phryne out of the room.

"Constable Collins is on his way, sir, with two men …" Mr Butler put the phone down.

"Thank you."

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Hugh arrived with two burly constables. Jack didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"Lock him up, Constables," he handed Henry over, "charge him with causing a near fatal road accident and attempted robbery."

"Sir," that was all Hugh needed to know.

"I'll see to the paperwork in the morning."

"Right you are," he nodded. "Come along, now, my lord." He gripped Henry's elbow and pushed him towards his colleagues.

"Don't listen to anything he says," Jack warned, knowing Henry was likely to turn on the charm to try and get himself out of the cell.

All Collins had told the men as they drove over was that they were arresting Miss Fisher's father and that he had upset her. Anyone who upset Miss Fisher wasn't worth spit, in their eyes, she was always kind to them. They wouldn't let him escape.

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Phryne was sitting up in bed when Jack returned. He slipped in beside her and pulled her to him and let her cry.

"Why, Jack?" she sobbed, "why does he want to hurt me so much, and mother, he says he loves her, she is the love of his life, yet he does this."

"I don't know, Phryne. I really don't. Robbing you tonight – probably because he thinks the dead don't need cash and he does. All the same, he should have gone for help after the accident, not just left you. As for loving your mother …" he sighed. "I'll telegram her tomorrow, let her know I've arrested him, and what for."

"She'll be over, she'll have to come, now."

"We'll deal with that when it happens." He kissed the top of her head, "get some rest."

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"HENRY IN JAIL STOP ATTEMPTED ROBBERY STOP CAUSING ROAD ACCIDENT STOP INSPECTOR ROBINSON CITY SOUTH STOP"

It hadn't been an easy telegram to word or to send, for Jack; for Margaret is was even harder to read.

"I'll be away for a couple of months, Mr MacKenzie," she sat in her parlour. "I'm leaving the wages with Stevens, he will deal with all that for you."

"Oh, right." He turned his hat round in his fingers.

"I have to go and see my daughter, she's been taken ill." She sighed.

"Oh dear," he hummed. "How are you getting there?"

"Ship, it's a long voyage."

"You could fly."

"Nonsense, Mr MacKenzie, you can't fly to Australia." She gave him a strange look, that was something Phryne might try to do.

"I know someone, a friend of a friend, my lady," he hummed, "they have a plane. Would you let me enquire, if speed is of the essence."

"Why do you know someone with a plane."

"It's a long story. During the war I was a spotter for the Royal Flying Corps. I still have contacts."

She sat and thought.

"Would you let me make enquiries?"

"I haven't booked my passage yet …"

"Give me a couple of days."

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The pilot was relatively young. He agreed it would be a long flight.

"Several stops along the way, Lady Fisher," he agreed, "but it is doable. Quicker than ship."

"But it can be done?"

"It can."

It was true, Margaret needed to get to Phryne as soon as possible and a ship would take six weeks, depending on conditions.

"Would you like to come and see the old bird?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"The plane, and she's not old, quite new in fact."