Bodies from the Library: Lost Tales of Mystery and Suspense by Agatha Christie and other Masters of the Golden Age

‘Then follow me. Not a sound, remember!’

In perfect silence the two men took up their stations on either side of the library door, revolvers held ready. The murmur of conversation could be heard within, and although neither Linckes nor Tomlins could distinguish any word spoken, they could hear that the talk was worried.

Then, after what seemed an interminable time, the key scraped in the lock, and Winthrop opened the door. Behind him stood the man Linckes had seen entering the house a few minutes ago.

For a moment there was dead silence as Winthrop stared haughtily from one levelled revolver to the other. Even now Linckes could not but admire the indomitable courage and sang-froid that Sir Charles displayed.

‘Really, Mr Linckes!’ he said, faintly amused. ‘May I ask what you think you are doing?’

‘Hands up, please!’ Linckes said sternly. ‘If you attempt to escape I shall shoot!’

Winthrop shrugged slightly, and raised his hands. Still he preserved that air of haughty bewilderment. But the man beside him had grown very pale, and was biting his under-lip. The hands that he held up were trembling.

Linckes advanced into the room, covering his man.

‘I may be doing you a grievous injury, Sir Charles, but I do not think so.’ With his free hand he drew a silver whistle from his pocket and blew three shrill blasts upon it. ‘Mr Winthrop, will you be so good as to remove your wig and your beard? Your make-up is excellent!’

Disregarding Tomlins’ levelled revolver, Sir Charles lowered his hands. He sank down into his chair, and regarded Linckes with a twinkle in his eye. His fine lips smiled generously.

‘Do tell me how you found out,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Take the wig off, Alec. The game’s up!’

With starting eyes Tomlins watched the pseudo Mr Knowles tear off his wig and beard. Night black hair with a faint crinkle in it was revealed, and when the man had rubbed his face with his handkerchief, removing most of the cunning make-up, the detective’s jaw dropped.

‘Sir—Sir Charles!’ he gasped.

A little, low laugh came from Winthrop.

‘Wonderful, isn’t it? Quite difficult to tell us apart.’ He paused, listening to the sudden pandemonium without. ‘Well, you’ve roused the whole household, Linckes, and I suppose your assistants are even now invading my house. You must allow me to congratulate you. I never thought you’d discover me. And I’ve had a fair run for my money, haven’t I? I don’t regret it a bit. Poor Alec’s looking rather glum. But then he always was rather peevish That was what made you suspect me in the first place, wasn’t it? Jolly clever of you to think of that blank sheet scheme. I ought to have guessed, of course. Fact of the matter is, you took me in. I didn’t think you suspected me.’

VII

Tony dabbed at her eyes, and gave a tiny sob.

‘It’s so awful, Roger! I c-can’t bear to think of Charlie doing such a thing. I—I just can’t realise it. It—it seems impossible!’

Linckes patted her shoulder uncomfortably.

‘And—and somehow I can’t feel angry with him. He was always such a dear!’

‘I know. He was just one of those people who couldn’t run straight? ’Twasn’t altogether his fault. And one must admire his courage.’

Tony was silent for a moment, still mopping her eyes.

A pair of soft arms stole round his neck.

‘No; and I can’t help admiring you!’ whispered Tony.

GEORGETTE HEYER (#ulink_373f1f70-5536-514e-a2b9-9fd75d7b2560)

Georgette Heyer, unquestionably one of Britain’s best-loved historical novelists, was born in 1902. She began her career as an author at the age of 19 with the novel The Black Moth, an exciting story about highwaymen set in the eighteenth century, which Heyer had expanded from a short story written to entertain her brother. It was the first of what would eventually be more than fifty novels, the vast majority of which dealt with the Georgian and Regency periods of British history.

While views differ as to the extent to which her books trod new ground rather than reviving scenarios and ideas from Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer was extremely popular and she remains so today, loved in particular for her lively and compelling characters and for the comedy and humour with which her novels are peppered. As a critic put it in 1929, Heyer’s historical novels ‘are not historical [and] they are not novel, but they are very good fun’.

The same can be said for the dozen novel-length ‘thrillers’, as she called them. The crimes with which these are concerned were considered by some contemporary critics, among them Dorothy L. Sayers, to be largely unoriginal but, as with her much more popular historical fiction, Heyer’s crime fiction was consistently praised for her rich characterisation, vivid dialogue and warm humour. Her dozen detective mysteries are regularly reprinted and some in particular have real merit, in particular A Blunt Instrument (1933), Death in the Stocks (1935) and Envious Casca (1941), a clever locked room mystery. Unlike her historical novels, Heyer’s detective mysteries did not require extensive research, and they were for the most part based on plot outlines provided by her husband, the eminent lawyer George Rougier. Heyer’s interest lay mainly in the characters and she would routinely seek Rougier’s advice when it came to unravelling the mystery in the final chapters and ensuring she had ‘played fair’ throughout the novel.

Heyer was a very private person, once saying that her readers would find all they needed to know about her in her books, which she considered as, ‘unquestionably, good escapist literature’. A heavy smoker, she died from lung cancer in 1974.

Georgette Heyer’s only uncollected detective short story, ‘Linckes’ Great Case’, was first published in the very rare magazine, Detective, on the 2nd of March 1923, and I am very grateful to the bookseller Jamie Sturgeon for providing a copy.

‘CALLING JAMES BRAITHWAITE’

Nicholas Blake

CHARACTERS

LADY ALICE BRAITHWAITE … wife of Sir James, daughter of Greer.

LAURENCE ANNESLEY … junior partner in Sir James Braithwaite’s firm.

LAURA ANNESLEY … his sister.

SIR JAMES BRAITHWAITE … shipowner.

NIGEL STRANGEWAYS … private detective.

CAPTAIN GREER … master of the ‘James Braithwaite’.

MR MACLEAN … first mate of the ‘James Braithwaite’.

SMITH … a seaman.

PART I

THE CRIME

ALICE: I hate him! There, I’ve said it at last, I hate him.

LAURENCE: But, Alice—

ALICE: No, I’m not being hysterical. I won’t—sometimes I think that’s what he wants—to drive me mad.

LAURENCE: Now you are exaggerating, my dear. James is not—well, not one of the world’s leading charmers. But—

ALICE: Hate. I wonder if you know what it’s like. Real hate. Oh, Laurence, what’s going to happen? I’ve stood it for nearly three years. The humiliations, the scenes, the horrible little pinpricks, all the things he does to break down my pride. You can’t imagine—

LAURENCE: Perhaps I can, my dear. Remember, I have to work with him.

ALICE: It’s like having a—a huge toad sitting across the path, blocking it, blocking it, blocking out the whole future. Oh God, I—