Death Before Wicket: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries 10 by Kerry Greenwood Read Free Book Online

Great Hall, Miss Fisher,’ he said smoothly, offering her his arm. ‘It was built by Edmund Blacket in 1859 in a style he called Tudor Perpendicular Gothic. The dimensions are based on the Guildhall in London. You really need to come during the day to see the windows at their finest; the glass was made in England and shipped out here, though the actual stone is from Pyrmont.’
    Phryne admired the marble statues of two benefactors, William Wentworth and John Challis, and then stood under a magnificent window depicting Schoolmen and considered the angel roof.
    ‘Wonderful,’ she murmured with perfect truth. Wooden secular angels crowned with gold leaned out from the hammer beams, each bearing a book. Forty-five feet above her head was Poetica, flanked by Dialectica and Grammatica.
    ‘They constitute the Trivium; that is, the three subjects which gave a scholar in the Middle Ages the rank of Bachelor of Arts.’
    Jeoffry Bisset, recovered from his gaffe, was at Phryne’s left hand. ‘Then we have the Quadrivium—Arithmetica, Geographica, Astronomica and Musica—that would make the scholar a master; they are the seven liberal arts. The angel with the scroll says, Scientia inflat, charitas aedificat —knowledge puffeth up but charity…er…edifieth. We think they are rather fine.’
    ‘They are beautiful,’ agreed Phryne, wishing that the server had also followed. There seemed to be nothing for it but to continue the tour, so she admired the grey and white marble floor, the bosses and corbels, and nodded respectfully to William Shakespeare in his window, hoping that he would get along with his companions, John Ford, Francis Beaumont and his colleague Fletcher.
    ‘What’s the symbol on Grammatica’s book?’ she asked.
    ‘A roll of papyrus—oh, my hat, I haven’t reported to the Dean yet about the Oxyrrinchus papyrus, I just remembered.’
    Phryne wanted something else to talk about.
    ‘The Oxyrrinchus papyrus?’ she asked sweetly, laying a hand on Bisset’s arm.
    ‘Yes, you see, there was a huge find in Egypt a few years ago, a stone pit absolutely full of papyri, gigantic job to get it all translated, so they decided to send some to every university which has a Classics department, and you’ll really have to ask John Bretherton about it, he’s done the work. Massive task.’
    ‘But why are you reporting about it?’
    Jeoffry Bisset blushed red. ‘Oh, I’ve been searching my own archives for it. It’s…excuse me.’
    ‘Professor, are all your Readers so precipitate?’ asked Phryne as Bisset fled through the chattering crowd.
    ‘Poor Bisset,’ said Kirkpatrick with what could only have been extreme malice. ‘There was a burglary, Miss Fisher, probably a student prank, and several things went missing. One of them was the papyrus. Nothing to do with any of my students, of course. Bisset has no system and his secretary has given up trying to impose one. All of his papers are in a large heap on his floor—I recall Ayers the Archaeologist saying to him, “Young man, you have there a proper midden and one could conceivably date the layers.” No matter, Miss Fisher. There’s the Vice Chancellor. Let me introduce you.’
    Phryne allowed herself to be escorted through a fascinating rabble. Delayed by the dignified slowness of academic movement, Phryne had time to listen in to a babble of what sounded like very satirical gossip.
    ‘They say that he’s to be sold up, positively sold up, poor dear fellow,’ brayed one man above the roar of voices. He leaned forward, allowing Phryne to pass, and said in a confidential undertone, ‘It’s that expensive wife of his, you know. Always bring a chap undone, expensive women. Gimme girls, they call them. Can have a fur coat out of a wooden statue of James Cook faster than you could say “extravagance”.’
    ‘I always thought s-she was rather nice,’ protested the first speaker.
    ‘Oh, nice enough, I grant you, but…hello, Kirkpatrick! Who’s the