"Of course. Alchemy. Fool’s gold."
From her hiding place in the cupboard, Evangeline's eyes widened. But before a gasp of surprise could emerge, Miss Plockton deftly placed a ladylike hand over her mouth. On first inspection, with her tight steely bun and pinched face, Miss Plockton appeared pure hell or high-water Highland Presbyterian, but Evangeline wondered whether she owed some of her efficiency to a touch of the fey.
"We understand you dealt with similar occurrences in London, Professor."
"I assisted the Goldsmiths Guild by developing a device to identify the offending alchemical material. I can't remember whether I brought it with me. I'll have to rummage through my trunks."
"Was the perpetrator apprehended?"
"The device was a success...But alas, we were too late to catch the fiend on that occasion."
Evangeline listened greedily to the details of the Professor's colourful past. Perhaps he was not as boring as he appeared. They had only been reunited for three months, and there was so much she did not know about her long-lost father. She had not even heard the full story of his missing arm. She vowed to grill him at the next available moment.
"Do you have any clues to the identity of this scoundrel, Chief Inspector?"
"Unfortunately not. The heights of the gold rush are over but Melbourne is still a transitory town. It is hard to keep up with all the comings and goings."
"And there is still plenty of money to be made by unscrupulous characters."
"Indeed. I thought I'd come out to the Colonies for a quiet life."
The Chief Inspector and the Professor chuckled.
"Clues are scarce, I'm afraid," Pensnett continued. "When we spoke with the goldsmith in question, he claimed he could not remember the person who sold it to him. The poor fellow was very flustered by his shoddy memory."
"As though his mind had been erased?"
"Quite. He blamed some type of phantasm."
"A ghost? And you believe him?"
"I'm not a man of science. It might sound ridiculous to you..."
"Not entirely..."
"But I have seen enough unexplainable things in my time to keep an open mind. The goldsmith is a reputable businessman."
"Hmm...intriguing."
"And the case gets even more peculiar."
"Do tell."
"The goldsmith surrendered the remaining gold, but when my Constables checked the evidence again this morning, the whole lot had turned grey. Not a speck of gold left."
"Transitory augmentation. How devious."
The linen cupboard door burst open.
"Hallo. What is going on here?"
It was Uncle Augie.
Evangeline and Miss Plockton both blushed red, caught in the ungenteel act of eavesdropping.
"A game of sardines? How fun. Move over." Augie's voice boomed as he pressed his generous frame into the cupboard. Evangeline cried out as a heeled boot squished her delicate toes.
"Uncle Augie. You do have big clod-hoppers."
"Miss Evangeline." Miss Plockton scowled. "Language, please. This is not a fish market."
"Ssh," Augie hissed. "You are both terrible at this game. I would have expected better from you, Miss Plockton."
The door swung open again.
The Professor and Inspector Pensnett stood in the doorway, frowns etched into their foreheads.
"Oh drat. They found us. Squeeze on over, Miss Plockton. We must make room," Augie said.
"What is going on here?" The Professor stood with hands on hips.
"Sardines, my old chum. Join in."
The Professor spied the audito-projector clamped against the wall and roared.
"You have been spying on me."
"Please forgive me, Father..." was all Evangeline could say. Miss Plockton was white as the damask sheets beside her. "I only wanted to..."
"Why is everyone in the linen cupboard?" Uncle Edmund appeared in the hallway, dabbing a handkerchief at his damp forehead, glistening from the outdoor heat. "Is it time for tea?"
"I must be off, Professor," Chief Inspector Pensnett said. "I am grateful for your time and advice."
"Yes. Yes. Let me show you out. Please excuse my impertinent daughter and my secretary. I shall dismiss her at once."
Evangeline gasped again.
"Don't worry, Miss Evangeline. He gives me my notice at least once a week. Usually on Thursdays," Miss Plockton said as she bustled away to fetch the tea.
Evangeline's stomach rumbled loudly. Augie glanced at her, horrified.
"What a beastly noise from a young lady. How can I present you to the Normanbys if your bodily functions speak so loudly?"
"I can't help it," Evangeline retorted.
"You take after your Uncle. Always hungry."
Augie looked fondly over at his best friend. Edmund and Augie had accompanied Evangeline to Melbourne on the long dirigible journey from London to Rome, Rome to Delhi, Delhi to Singapore and then finally Singapore to Melbourne. The Professor's younger brother, Edmund, was an accomplished architect. He was called to Melbourne to design many of the modern sandstone buildings springing up on every street corner, in preparation for the World Exhibition in 1888. Edmund and Augie were constant companions, they shared a room on the dirigible and even had adjoining rooms here in the house.
Augie, or August Beauchamp, wasn't Evangeline's real uncle. He had recently taken over the Prince Albert Theatre on Lonsdale Street and knew all the fashionable people in town. When he wasn't managing the theatrical types of Melbourne, he was Evangeline's strict etiquette master.
A triangle chimed down the wooden hallway.
"Goody. Tea. I'm famished," said Edmund as they all emptied the linen cupboard and traipsed down the hall to the conservatory.
Evangeline smiled to herself. She hoped there would be more talk of the mysterious alchemist over tea. It would be awfully exciting if the Professor would let her help.
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