By Geoffrey Household
A vintage mystery set in Dorset after the second one global warfare, choked with Household's signature motion and suspense.
An afternoon's capturing within the kingdom turns out a delightful prospect to Roger Taine, a revered family members guy with a wonderful army list. but if he discovers a poacher on his land, he fires a caution blast that prevents the intruder lifeless in his tracks.
Investigating additional, Taine inadvertently uncovers a new-fascist plot which he's made up our minds to thwart. a sequence of auto chases, aeroplane drops and cross-country scrambles sharpen the secret, however the experience takes a brand new twist whilst Taine discovers that he himself is being pursued through the police.
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To the plain Englishman, however, who keeps his Ideals, Service and Religion packed away in the gun room, well-oiled and ready for use but emphatically out of reach of the children, the People’s Union was offensive. It had a somewhat fascist smell of hierarchy. It paid lip service to democracy, of course, but there was no doubt that if Heyne-Hassingham and his choirboys ever came to power –which no one thought remotely possible but themselves –Parliament would be even more of a rubber stamp than it is.
I have watched. I have listened. I think I have identified the wall which was being pulled down when Pink and his late friend interrupted the person they thought was me. Colonel, if you could tell me whom I am supposed to have killed, you would do a service to your country. ” I had no intention of confessing to him that I myself was the killer; nor, I think, did he then suspect it. He had been silently watching and weighing all the local people who could conceivably be mixed up in any sort of violent action, and had quite rightly assumed that I was the only one.
He guessed just what I was going to think of Hiart, and let me know–if I were clever enough to see it–that the contrast between us amused him. He was a subtle and likable creature. Natural enough, I suppose. If he hadn’t been, he could never have founded and held the devotion of his People’s Union. Hiart shook hands. His narrow, dark eyes were laid on me as directly and expressionlessly as the guns of a tank. ” I asked him. ” “I’d find it unnecessary too,” I retorted, “if I still had army rations.