Ruth grasped Ember around the middle. Jane scooped out a generous amount of cream around where he had been licking.

She placed spoon, cream and cat on the floor of the scullery and shut the door on the furry, purring thief.

'There,' said Jane, patting Ruth's trembling shoulder. 'It's all right. No one will know. I've seen Mrs Butler do similar things. Now you take the pudding and I'll take the cream and the sauce and off we go.'

She gave her foster sister a push and Ruth bore the pudding into the dining room.

The pudding cloth had peeled perfectly. The pudding squatted, spherical and smooth, without a blemish. Ruth 27 *28 accepted the company's compliments. Phryne gave her a shrewd look and a glass of sweet muscat, instructing her to drink up and recruit her strength after such hard work. Ruth did so, gasped, and shook herself. Of course it would be all right. She didn't even wince when Lady Alice took whipped cream and brandy sauce with her pudding.

The feast trailed off into spoonfuls of iced lemon sorbet, strong coffee, mince pies and little chocolates. Then Phryne betook herself to the kitchen and sent her guests to their rooms to have a siesta.

'I washed dishes for a living,' she told Ruth, who protested.

'Before I made more money as a model. You and Jane go and lie down for a couple of hours. Then we shall have tea and crackers and carols and presents,' she promised.

Ruth waited until she saw Miss Phryne fill both sinks in a no-nonsense fashion and begin on the glasses before she allowed herself to be persuaded away. Jane flung herself down to read some more Darwin and Ruth fell asleep instantly, her tired feet elevated on a pillow. Miss Eliza led Lady Alice to the guest bedroom for a little nap. Phryne washed dishes.

She rather liked washing dishes, if she didn't have to do it for a living. And provided there were gallons of fresh hot water and soda and soap. When she had got to the pots, she left them to soak for a while and brewed herself some more coffee.

She became aware of a mewing noise in the scullery.

'Ah, she said, opening the door and taking in the licked clean spoon and the offended cat. 'So you like whipped cream, eh? I might have guessed it. If you come out,' she hinted, 'there is a plate of carefully cut-up goose scraps for you which some kind girl has prepared and which you do not deserve in the slightest.'

Ember emerged, gave himself a fast once-over wash to demonstrate how he felt about being deprived of a bowl of 28 *29 cream which he had personally hunted down, and addressed himself to the goose. Molly came in, having demolished her mountain of scraps, and flopped down under the table, full to satiety for the first time in her deprived life. And Phryne scrubbed and drained pots, finding that the baking dish had been admirably nibbled clean by the dog. She finished the task and took her coffee into the garden.

The salt wind from the sea, which burned all vegetation in summer, was in Phryne's garden foiled by large screens of bamboo, unkillable by any earthly force. The delicate trailers and vines sheltered behind the bamboo, able to grow higher than the fence without being blighted instantly. The jasmine was in bloom. The sun was not too hot and Phryne basked a little, very happy in her own house and her own company.

Then she mounted the stairs for a little nap before tea, and presents, and carols.

Christmas carols were playing on the gramophone. The tea tray was prepared. Phryne, in a loose gown, presided as Ruth and Jane alternated in taking parcels from under the glorious gold and silver tree.

'Miss Phryne,' said Jane anxiously. Phryne opened it. Inside was a small, cambric handkerchief with a slightly wobbly orchid embroidered on the corner. Blood spots had not quite washed out of it.

'Jane,' said Phryne warmly, 'how lovely. What a good choice of flower.' She tucked it into her pocket so that the orchid showed. Jane let out her held breath.

'Jane,' said Ruth. Jane unwrapped a book. ' Gray's Anatomy,'

said Phryne. Jane gave a small cry of joy as she reverently opened it and displayed a flayed human form, all muscles marked and numbered. Ruth shuddered slightly and opened 29 *30 her present, a proper starched cook's cap and apron. Lady Alice and Miss Eliza had also provided books for their friends.

Phryne had London Labour and the London Poor by Henry Mayhew, in three volumes. Jane had Beatrice and Sidney Webb on the economics of poverty and Ruth Plain Recipes for Poor People by Soyer. Phryne commended her sister on not starting the girls on Das Kapital too soon.

'Oh, it's central, of course, but it's so dull,' said Eliza.

'Thank you for the shortbread, Ruth. And the pen wiper, Jane.

That will come in very useful. And the writing things, Phryne.

Purple, my favourite colour too, and such good cream-laid paper. I always think I write better on really good paper.'

'And here is a box of biscuits for Molly,' said Ruth.

'And a pair of gloves from Lin Chung. How very beautiful,' said Phryne. The gloves were Florentine angel's skin, thinner than kid and as scarlet as sin.

'And what's in this one?' asked Lady Alice.

'Oh yes, it was left on the porch,' said Ruth. 'This morning.'

Phryne cut the string. Molly came to her side, gave a profound sniff and began to bark. Ember, who had been catching forty winks on the arm of Phryne's chair, woke up cross and spat.

'Molly, what's the matter?' exclaimed Jane, as Phryne lifted the lid of a small box, disclosing an arm ring in the shape of a brightly enamelled serpent. It was coral and brown and ivory, so beautifully coloured that it might have been alive.

'What a pretty thing,' said Phryne, and reached for it.

It lifted its head and hissed.

Her life was preserved only because the snake was unsure whom to bite first, the barking dog or the moving hand. It streaked up to half its length, aiming at a point between Phryne and Molly. But it had not counted on there being a cat within easy reach.

30.

*31 Ember had not had a good day. His cream had been taken away from him. He had been locked in the scullery. Then just when he had been adequately regaled and was taking a well deserved nap, he was woken by barking dogs and importunate snakes. It was too much.

With a skilled, clawed, faster than light right hook, he slapped the snake out of the box and onto the carpet. As it fell, he leapt beside it, his black body flowing through the air, seized its neck in his jaws, and bit as hard as he could. Then he spat out the dead body and batted it a little as it writhed and twisted its coloured corpse. There might be some amusement to be gained out of this, he thought, swatting it again. Come along, little snakey, want to play?

It just lay there. He threw it into the air a couple of times but it came down as unresponsive as a rubber band. Bored, he left the snake and retired to the arm of the chair again, from whence he was removed by a distracted Miss Eliza, who poured him a whole saucer of cream. Humans were odd. First they took the cream away, then they brought it back. Still, cream was cream, thought Ember, and licked and licked at this bounty while it lasted. Lady Alice, who loathed serpents, joined Eliza on the floor with the cream jug, hastily revising her previously hardline views on the uselessness of cats.

'That's a coral snake,' said Jane through numb lips. 'It's in my natural history book. It's really, really venomous. One bite . . .'

She leaned on Ruth, who embraced her.

'It's dead now,' said her sister, feeding ginger biscuits to Molly, who was still barking at the dead snake. 'Do shut up, Moll, it really is dead.'

'But who sent it?' asked Miss Eliza. 'There's a good, clever, alert, brave, beautiful, intelligent cat,' she added, replenishing the cream.

31.

*32 'Well,' said Phryne, 'let's see.' She took up the coral snake with the fire tongs and placed it on a saucer. Then she probed the box and a small card fell out. It had a jolly scene of robins in snow on one side. The other said, 'Stay away from the Last Best Party or it will be your Last'.

'From a well-wisher, I expect,' commented Phryne. 'Lady Alice, break out the liqueur tray, will you? We all need a drink.

Isn't it lucky Dot wasn't here? She hates snakes. Mind you, I'm rapidly going off them myself. What a very nasty trick.

Someone is going to be sorry that they played it. Jane? Can you get a glass jar and some metho? And just pop our specimen in.

I might need to exhibit it.'

'Yes, I'll fetch them,' said Jane, and hurried off to raid Mrs Butler's cleaning materials. Lady Alice got up off the floor and poured liberal doses for all: muscat for the girls and High-land Park whisky for the ladies. They sipped, watching Ember lap cream and Jane bottle the coral snake in a metho-filled jam jar. Jane screwed on the lid very firmly. The creature looked totally improbable. Bottling it had the effect, however, of convincing Molly to stop barking, which was a relief. The dog wagged her tail and accepted another biscuit from her Christmas box.

'Are you going to call the police?' asked Miss Eliza. 'That was an attempted murder, you know, only foiled because of this valiant, beautiful, skilled, clever cat.'

Ember purred as more cream was vouchsafed to him. Miss Eliza wondered distractedly how much cream one cat could hold. Ember had always wondered the same thing, and was willing to experiment.

'No need to bother the police,' replied Phryne. 'The trickster will be at the party. And when I find him,' she bared her teeth, 'then he shall learn that I know a few tricks of my own.'

32.

*33 The Joker considered his disguises. The lady's dress with the high heeled shoes always attracted the right sort of attention. If anyone had been there to see him, they would have seen his mouth- always a little dry, like a serpent's mouth-curve.

33.

*34

CHAPTER THREE.

White Lady 2 parts gin 1 part Cointreau 1 part lemon juice Shake with a dash of egg white.

Wednesday, 26th December Boxing Day was notable for returns. Dot came back delighted but rather fatigued by her large family, glad to be home in the relative peace of Phryne's house. Mr and Mrs Butler returned pleased to have their own space again and noting that they had lost the knack of ignoring a crying infant. After a fast review of her kitchen, Mrs Butler was delighted to congratulate Ruth on her cooking and Miss Fisher on her dishwashing. ('Who would have thought?' she said privately to her husband.) Nothing had been broken and when Ruth, in dead secrecy, confided the tale of the whipped cream, Mrs Butler laughed and said she would have done the same herself. 'What the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over,' she told Ruth. 'And least said, soonest mended.' This was a great relief to Ruth's mind.

34.

*35 Boxing Day was also the day when Mrs Butler made up baskets of Christmas cheer, including her incomparable mince pies, for the domestic workers, who arrived on and off all day to receive their basket and Miss Fisher's Christmas card and bonus. Miss Fisher's generosity was well known so there was a stream of visitors all day, from the window washer to the knife sharpener to the ladies who obliged with rough scrubbing and polishing.

Jane read her Anatomy, occasionally raising her eyes from a diagram to consider any human within sight in a dissecting sort of way which, Dot said, gave her the willies. Phryne read her detective stories. Dot did the same. Ruth helped in the kitchen wearing her new cook's apron. It was a quiet, sleepy day, always notable for rissoles made of yesterday's poultry and a sense of comfortable inertia. Phryne played more Christmas carols because she liked Christmas carols and the pudding tasted just as good cold with chilled brandy sauce. The Advent picture which Dot uncovered showed a sky full of angels singing.

At three in the afternoon a special messenger delivered an unexpected package, and Phryne took it into the jasmine bower to open it. Dot, who had been shown the bottled coral snake, stood beside Phryne with a broom, ready to repel reptiles.

The string was removed and the leaves of the box were opened gingerly with the tongs. Nothing lethal was disclosed within. Phryne tipped the box on its side and a cascade of coloured leaflets, books and party favours spilled onto the table.

'It's my guide to the party,' she told Dot. 'The Last Best Party. Let's see. Here we have a room key, the Iris Room, sounds nice. A map of the grounds. A ticket to park the car. A rather detailed guide to events and personalities. A mask for the bal masque. Lots of stuff. But none of it dangerous, Dot dear.'

35.

*36 'This party . . .' Dot began.

'Yes?' Phryne looked at her through a cat mask.

'You're taking me, aren't you, Miss Phryne?'

'I don't think so,' said Phryne candidly. 'It might be dangerous and it will certainly shock you. And I might want to be shocking myself, you know. I really don't think your young man would approve of you being within a hundred miles of this party, Dot.'

'No sin except in intention,' argued Dot. 'A saint sat on the steps of a brothel for days and she was unstained. My Hugh knows I'm a good girl, and if he doubts me then he's not the man I thought him-and not worth having. Anyway, who's going to look after your clothes?'

'I'll tell you what. Drive down with me tomorrow, and we'll have a look at the situation. If it's too, too vile for a nice girl, Mr B shall take you home and bring you back each morning with clean clothes and so on. That will mean that I don't have to leave the car where one of those hearties might steal it. Besides, I shall be working. Someone doesn't want me to come to this party, and I want to know who they are, and why, and many other useful things. Cheer up, Dot. You know you don't like wickedness.'

'No,' said Dot. 'If you're sure, Miss Phryne.'

'I'm sure.' Phryne repacked the box and carried it inside.

Dot followed, relieved at not having to preside over too much sin, and a little wistful at losing so much interesting gossip to share with her sister Joan. Joan taught deportment to Tilly Devine's girls in Sydney, and always had such a lot of highly coloured things to tell.

Phryne sat down in her boudoir and examined the printed book. Bound in limp purple leather, very tasty, with gold embossings. It purported to be a complete guide to the Last 36 *37 Best Party, which had been meticulously planned, down to the finest detail, probably by poor, overworked Mr Ventura.

First day: arrival of guests after lunch. Cocktails at five in the Great Marquee. Dress: optional. That was irritating. One ran the risk of being over- or underdressed. Of the two, Phryne always preferred overdressed. Dinner and dancing on the lawns, boating on the lake. Phryne considered a moment. What was the blight of all outside entertainment anywhere near water?

Mosquitoes. She made a note to replenish her supplies of citronella oil. On the one hand one smelt like a slightly chemi-cal lemon grove. On the other hand, one was not covered in large itchy bumps. Phryne decided on a couple of stronger perfumes which might combine well with the citronella and read on.

Oh, my. Each day was themed and costumed, probably from the Victorian Opera. A Day at the Court of the Mikado of Japan. One Thousand and One Nights with Sultan Al-Jabira. The Feast of Fools with the Lord of Misrule. Lord have mercy. No way to prepare for all that, thought Phryne and decided on minimal clothes, a shady hat or so, and her wits, which had been reliable in the past. Who didn't want her to go to this bash? And why?