Flying Too High Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ted. She’s got grand relations at Home and her dad is related to the King.’
    ‘She’s still a nice girl. Knows what she wants and gets it. And pays for it. Us, for instance.’
    ‘You see, my dear,’ Mrs B. said to Dot, ‘we weren’t going to take another place when our old gentleman died. Such a nice man. He had good connections, too. He left us enough money to retire—a little house in Richmond and a bit of garden, just what we’ve always wanted. But Ted and me, we ain’t old yet and somehow we didn’t really want to retire, not if we could find a good place. A smaller establishment, with no children and other help coming in for the laundry and the rough work. We put ourselves on the books of the most exclusive agency, and doubled our wages. Miss Fisher sent the solicitor to interview us and we told the lawyer what we wanted. All Miss Fisher required was that we swore not to disclose any of her personal affairs to anyone, and naturally we’d never do that. Then the solicitor upped and asked us when we could move in to supervise the alterations, and so we agreed to try out for six months and see if we suited one another. So far it’s going well. What about you, dear?’
    ‘I’ve been with her for three months,’ replied Dot. ‘She helped me out of a scrape. I was out of place because the son of the house was chasing me, and she took me on. Since we started this private investigator stuff it’s been all go. The only thing that might annoy you is tea at all hours if she’s working on a problem, otherwise she’s lovely,’ said Dot, taking another mouthful of apple crumble. ‘This is delicious,’ she added. Mrs Butler smiled. Like all good cooks, she loved feeding people.
    ‘Do you like cars, Mr Butler?’ Dot asked.
    ‘Call me Ted. I love cars. Always wanted to handle a machine like Miss Fisher’s. Lagonda, is it?’
    ‘Hispano-Suiza,’ corrected Dot. ‘She drives like a demon.’
    Ted’s eyes lit up. ‘I expect she’ll let me drive her to parties and balls and so on. I shall have to get a chauffeur’s cap.’
    Dot wondered how she was to mention Phryne’s habit of strewing her boudoir with beautiful naked young men. She could not think of a method of introducing the subject and decided to leave it to Phryne to cope with.
    ‘Well, Miss Williams, the bath water’s hot if you want it,’ said Mr Butler. ‘And the whatsername works, at last. I’m going to polish the silver,’ he said, and took himself off into the back of the house.
    ‘Call me Dot. I’ve got to be at the hotel by eight, Mrs Butler, so can you manage some breakfast at seven? Just tea and toast. Good night.’
    Dot climbed the stairs to her own room, washed her face and hands, and fell into a dreamless sleep in her own bed, in her own room. Outside the sea roared in the first of the winter’s storms, but in 221B The Esplanade Dot was as snug as a bug in a rug.
    Breakfast the next morning was bacon and eggs. Mrs Butler exclaimed at the idea of sending such a thin young woman out for a long day’s work on tea and toast. Unusually full, Dot caught the tram and arrived at the Windsor in a lowering chill. The wind had dropped but the sky was full of rain. Dot clutched her coat close and ran up the steps, greeting the doorman as she passed.
    ‘You must be freezing!’ she exclaimed, as he fumbled with the big door.
    ‘Not as bad yet as it’s going to be,’ he opined, cocking a knowing eye at the sky. ‘Miss Fisher ain’t going to walk any aeroplanes today.’
    Dot found Phryne dropping her third armload of dresses onto her bed and staring at them.
    ‘I had no idea that I had this many clothes, Dot. I should give them away, what a collection.’
    ‘No, you need them all, Miss. You sit down and I’ll start packing. You make out a cheque for the bill, and I’ll have this all put away in a jiffy. By the way, the doorman knew about your stunt in the plane. You must be in the paper.’
    ‘Oh, good. I’ll go down and buy