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Florence and Jo both enjoy the summer ball in their own way.

They headed for a Victorian building with tall brick chimneys and went inside. The corridors were rather less grand than they looked on the outside. The walls were plain white plaster with a number of simple looking doors each with a little plaque telling you which doctor or professor had which office. Saphy strode ahead, seeming anxious to get through all this, her heavy boots clumping along the wood floor. She stopped at a door and knocked.

"This is it," she grimaced, "We're here."

The plaque on this particular door read "Professor Jane Cavendish -- Transgender Studies". A voice sounded from inside, inviting them in. Saphy opened the door and Gabe followed her inside. Professor Cavendish was sat behind her desk, reading. As they came in, she looked up and registered Saphy's presence with a look of recognition and surprise.

The office was crowded with books, there were shelves from floor to ceiling with books arranged in a seemingly random order, along the shelf and then lying on top as well. The desk was also spread with books and papers leaving very little space of desk itself. The window behind the desk gave a pleasant view of the green lawn outside. There were a couple of pictures hanging on the wall. One showed an ancient feast day, as the men and women lounged around a table of food a shower of pink rose petals fell on them. The other showed a knight in full armour except for a helmet, sat staring out to sea, with long flowing blonde hair and a somewhat androgynous face.

Jane Cavendish herself was a woman of indeterminate age. Her long waves of hair were already mostly grey, but her smooth skin and bright eyes suggested the greying was a little premature and that Professor Cavendish was actually quite young to have got to such a position of respect. She was not necessarily attractive, but Gabe's photographer's eye saw a face that was definitely interesting, striking even. She wore a pair of old fashioned horn rimmed spectacles that sat on the end of her nose as she looked over them at Saphy.

"Persephone Cross!" she exclaimed, "I didn't expect to see you back here again. Not ever, and certainly not so soon."

"I'm not back," Saphy said, "Well, not for good. We have a little problem. A mystery and I think you're the only one who can help."

"She was my best student," Professor Cavendish explained, turning to Gabe, "The brightest and most eager to learn."

"Was?" Gabe asked.

"Oh yes, you're looking at a certified college dropout," Saphy smirked.

"And who's your friend, Miss Cross?" Professor Cavendish looked Gabe up and down, sizing him up and trying to place him, to figure out where he fitted in the world of her aggressive purple haired feminist former student.

"This...This isn't a friend," she replied, "I don't know, we just met this morning. Although he seems to have been following me for longer," here she shot Gabe an accusing look, "We were witnesses to a murder and I think somebody wants us out of the way."

"That sounds pretty melodramatic, Saphy," Professor Cavendish, "What on earth makes you think that?"

Saphy sighed as if she had hoped she wouldn't have to go through the whole story with her old professor. She came over to the desk and took a seat, feeling that they were set to be there for a while. After a few seconds, Gabe joined her in the other chair that sat opposite.

"You've seen the news about the murder at the National Gallery?" Saphy said.

"Ah yes, the Rokeby Venus, wasn't it?" Professor Cavendish replied, "You were there?"

"That's right, me and Gabe here, we saw the whole thing. We wanted to get your take on it."

"I assume you've considered this painting being targeted for the same reasons as in 1914, Slasher Mary," she said the name with a sense of disdain, "That's if the painting itself has any significance at all. You must have more than this to go on if you thought I could help."

"I told you before that somebody wants us out of the way, I wasn't exa