The Daffodil Affair

by Michael Innes

  ‘Look!’

  Lucy was pointing. Just below them, and nearer the river, was another low hill. And in a sudden flare of light – it was probably the flame reaching the petrol in the plane – they saw a single figure standing immobile, surveying the scene.

  ‘The witch,’ Lucy said.

  And it was Hannah Metcalfe. She stood very still and watched the bonfire with slightly parted lips. On Beaglehole and his whip, on Wine and the isle of Capri, she had achieved her revenge.

  Hudspith stirred sharply. ‘My God!’ he said. ‘She’s demented. Only a devil would plot such a thing.’

  Appleby nodded. ‘Perhaps so. And only a very powerful and talented person could carry it out. I believe–’ He stopped and laid a warning hand on each of his companions. ‘Listen,’ he whispered.

  The sound was very close. It came from the other side of the great tree. And it was the neigh of a horse.

  In the flicker from the distant fires the creature showed cloudlike and uncertain. There was a flare of light, and they saw it clearly; it was erect, prancing and magnificent. Suddenly Lucy called out; of the three of them her senses appeared to be the keenest. ‘Jacko, look!’

  Appleby turned. The backwater was still behind them. And now, in front and steadily advancing, was a great sickle of dancing flames. Its significance was clear: a long line of savages was converging upon them with lighted torches, and there was no line of retreat. They must have been detected by those bobbing heads in the water; now they were to be rounded up. Appleby eyed the distance. ‘Five minutes,’ he said; ‘we haven’t got more than that.’ There was a jerk at his shoulder; he turned and eyed the great horse; the animal was tossing its head strangely in air. ‘One, two,’ said Appleby; ‘three, four, five – by the lord Harry, it’s Daffodil!’

  ‘Daffodil?’ said Hudspith. ‘Nonsense! Daffodil is a broken-down cab-horse. This is as fine a creature–’

  ‘It’s the pampa. It was the same with the Spaniards when they first came. They landed a lot of sorry jades–’

  ‘They’re nearer,’ Lucy said warningly.

  ‘–but after a month or so of the pampa air–’ Appleby broke off; he was working at the horse’s tether. ‘Hudspith, I’ve rather lost my bearings. Which bank are we on?’

  ‘North.’

  ‘Then perhaps we can do it. Do you ride?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you can hang on to a stirrup-leather. Imagine you’re an infantryman charging with the Scots Greys.’ Appleby was in the saddle. ‘Steady, Daffodil, steady! Lucy, up you come. And yell, all of you; yell like mad.’ With difficulty he turned the horse’s head towards the advancing line of fire. The creature reared, came down, curvetted like a colt. And Appleby gave it the rein. ‘A Daffodil,’ he shouted, ‘a Daffodil!’ They charged nightmarishly down the hill. Savages danced and yelled in front. The hooves of Daffodil thundered below and Hudspith held on as to a hurricane. Behind them the glare from the burning Happy Islands obscured Orion and climbed to touch the Southern Cross.

  7

  ‘Surprise me?’ The Jesuit Father looked innocently at Appleby. ‘No, I cannot say you do that. Except perhaps in the matter of the horse. It was an uncommon feat of endurance. One feels that he deserves a flagon of wine, like the animal in Browning’s poem. You admire Browning? I think of him as an Elizabethan born out of time. He has that theatrical vision of Italy and the Papacy which is so essentially of the Elizabethan age.’

  ‘I hate to think of all those poor creatures carried off by the savages.’

  ‘It is curious that he could do so little in the dramatic form.’ The priest shook his head, cultivated and austere and comfortable. No doubt, thought Appleby, he could discourse thus adequately on the poets of half a dozen semi-barbarous nations –and was glad to do so when the rare occasion should occur. ‘But I beg your pardon. You were saying–? Ah, yes; about the poor people who have been carried off. There is little chance of rescuing them, I sadly fear. In any temporal sense, that is to say. You see, those tribes come from pretty far to the south-west. We never contact them. But I assure you that their prizes will be given a very comfortable time. They will be treated as gods.’

  Hudspith took his eyes from the little sunlit cloister-garth. ‘Is that comfortable?’

  ‘Humanly, it may not be so bad. We must pray for them, of course.’ The priest was silent for a minute. ‘You see, all the natives hereabouts have the most enormous appetite for marvels. It amounts to an embarrassment at times, I do assure you.’ He smiled gravely, a man who would not readily be put to a stand. ‘And they are very numerous. They will absorb hundreds of holy men and miracle workers without the least trace of spiritual or intellectual indigestion.’

  ‘That,’ said Appleby, ‘is just what Wine believed the world at large was ripe to do.’

  ‘I think we can look after the world at large.’ The priest smiled again. ‘You and I,’ he said politely.

  ‘It’s an odd end to the thing. For a moment I was inclined to call it poetic justice. But it’s not quite that.’

  ‘It has a certain artistic fitness, Mr Appleby. To say more than that would be – injudicious.’

  Lucy Rideout, rather alarmed in strange surroundings, looked timidly up. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry for Mrs Nurse.’

  ‘She shall be particularly remembered.’

  Lucy blinked, very much at sea. ‘And you think that Mr Wine–?’

  ‘It is likely that he will have been killed. We heard little of him, but undoubtedly he bore a bad name. And hereabouts, believe me, that is a fatal thing to do. I am wondering about the girl who was believed to be a witch. She must have obtained great power. Her, I believe we can rescue. In such matters, when they are important, we are not without means.’

  ‘You think Hannah Metcalfe important?’ asked Appleby.

  ‘She has much talent, and among those people might be an instrument of much good. She shall be found. And instructed.’ He smiled again and rose. ‘And now you are tired, I am sure.’

  Time had passed, and even Harrogate was not quite the same. Here and there a bit was missing. The enemy, uncertain of his reception in more martial quarters, was occasionally contriving to chasten the spas of England – chosen haunts of a warmongering plutocracy. And even Lady Caroline had changed with the times, wearing a steel helmet as she took her daily carriage-exercise in the open landau.

  ‘Dear Miss Appleby,’ said Lady Caroline as she stood on the steps of her modest but distinguished hotel, ‘have you seen my muff? Maidment used to look after it for me.’

  ‘No, my dear. I fear you have to look after it yourself nowadays. And you must not regret Miss Maidment too much. The auxiliary services do such wonderful work.’

  ‘No doubt. But I fear that Maidment has been much actuated by a desire for the society of men.’

  ‘Dear me!’

  ‘I had frequently remarked it. Where is Bodfish?’

  ‘Nowadays, Lady Caroline, he appears to like to walk Daffodil up and down before taking us up. Sometimes to trot him up and down. But here they are. Have you noticed that the carriage never seems to keep quite still?’

  ‘Bodfish,’ said Lady Caroline sternly, ‘have a care.’

  ‘How eager Daffodil is to be off!’ said Miss Appleby. ‘The carriage quite hits one in the back.’

  ‘I am afraid,’ said Lady Caroline, ‘that this paltry bombing is having an undue effect upon the nerves of the populace. Have you noticed how nervous people appear to be in the streets? Our own modest progress might be a charge of cavalry. Did you notice that policeman at the corner? He positively leapt for the pavement as we passed.’ Lady Caroline settled herself with some difficulty in her corner. ‘I am not sure that the springs of this landau are quite as they were.’

  ‘I agree with you.’ Miss Appleby swayed in her seat. ‘But it is a great comfort once more to be assured of a quiet horse.’

  ‘Quite so,’ said Lady Caroline. ‘I declare there is quite a wind blowing; I had not remar
ked it before we started. And in what poor condition the street must be.’

  ‘How fast we are going! Here is the Stray already.’

  ‘To be sure it is. And the traffic is considerable. Have you noticed how red Bodfish seems to go sometimes round the neck? Can it be that he has returned to beer?’

  ‘There is rather a lot of traffic. And do you notice how much of it appears to swerve at us? One could almost be alarmed.’

  ‘My dear’ – Lady Caroline swayed and bucketed and gasped – ‘my dear, there is much comfort nowadays in a quiet horse.’

  Note on Inspector (later, Sir John) Appleby Series

  John Appleby first appears in Death at the President’s Lodging, by which time he has risen to the rank of Inspector in the police force. A cerebral detective, with ready wit, charm and good manners, he rose from humble origins to being educated at ‘St Anthony’s College’, Oxford, prior to joining the police as an ordinary constable.

  Having decided to take early retirement just after World War II, he nonetheless continued his police career at a later stage and is subsequently appointed an Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police at Scotland Yard, where his crime solving talents are put to good use, despite the lofty administrative position. Final retirement from the police force (as Commissioner and Sir John Appleby) does not, however, diminish Appleby’s taste for solving crime and he continues to be active, Appleby and the Ospreys marking his final appearance in the late 1980’s.

  In Appleby’s End he meets Judith Raven, whom he marries and who has an involvement in many subsequent cases, as does their son Bobby and other members of his family.

  Appleby Titles in order of first publication

  These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  1. Death at the President’s Lodging Also as: Seven Suspects 1936

  2. Hamlet! Revenge 1937

  3. Lament for a Maker 1938

  4. Stop Press Also as: The Spider Strikes 1939

  5. The Secret Vanguard 1940

  6. Their Came Both Mist and Snow Also as: A Comedy of Terrors 1940

  7. Appleby on Ararat 1941

  8. The Daffodil Affair 1942

  9. The Weight of the Evidence 1943

  10. Appleby’s End 1945

  11. A Night of Errors 1947

  12. Operation Pax Also as: The Paper Thunderbolt 1951

  13. A Private View Also as: One Man Show and Murder is an Art 1952

  14. Appleby Talking Also as: Dead Man’s Shoes 1954

  15. Appleby Talks Again 1956

  16. Appleby Plays Chicken Also as: Death on a Quiet Day 1957

  17. The Long Farewell 1958

  18. Hare Sitting Up 1959

  19. Silence Observed 1961

  20. A Connoisseur’s Case Also as: The Crabtree Affair 1962

  21. The Bloody Wood 1966

  22. Appleby at Allington Also as: Death by Water 1968

  23. A Family Affair Also as: Picture of Guilt 1969

  24. Death at the Chase 1970

  25. An Awkward Lie 1971

  26. The Open House 1972

  27. Appleby’s Answer 1973

  28. Appleby’s Other Story 1974

  29. The Appleby File 1975

  30. The Gay Phoenix 1976

  31. The Ampersand Papers 1978

  32. Shieks and Adders 1982

  33. Appleby and Honeybath 1983

  34. Carson’s Conspiracy 1984

  35. Appleby and the Ospreys 1986

  Honeybath Titles in order of first publication

  These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  1. The Mysterious Commission 1974

  2. Honeybath’s Haven 1977

  3. Lord Mullion’s Secret 1981

  4. Appleby and Honeybath 1983

  Synopses (Both Series & ‘Stand-alone’ Titles)

  Published by House of Stratus

  The Ampersand Papers

  While Appleby is strolling along a Cornish beach, he narrowly escapes being struck by a body falling down a cliff. The body is that of Dr Sutch, an archivist, and he has fallen from the North Tower of Treskinnick Castle, home of Lord Ampersand. Two possible motivations present themselves to Appleby – the Ampersand gold, treasure from an Armada galleon; and the Ampersand papers, valuable family documents that have associations with Wordsworth and Shelley.

  Appleby and Honeybath

  Every English mansion has a locked room, and Grinton Hall is no exception – the library has hidden doors and passages…and a corpse. But when the corpse goes missing, Sir John Appleby and Charles Honeybath have an even more perplexing case on their hands – just how did it disappear when the doors and windows were securely locked? A bevy of helpful houseguests offer endless assistance, but the two detectives suspect that they are concealing vital information. Could the treasures on the library shelves be so valuable that someone would murder for them?

  Appleby and the Ospreys

  Clusters, a great country house, is troubled by bats, as Lord and Lady Osprey complain to their guests, who include first rate detective, Sir John Appleby. In the matter of bats, Appleby is indifferent, but he is soon faced with a real challenge – the murder of Lord Osprey, stabbed with an ornate dagger in the library.

  Appleby at Allington

  Sir John Appleby dines one evening at Allington Park, the Georgian home of his acquaintance Owain Allington, who is new to the area. His curiosity is aroused when Allington mentions his nephew and heir to the estate, Martin Allington, whose name Appleby recognises. The evening comes to an end but just as Appleby is leaving, they find a dead man – electrocuted in the son et lumière box which had been installed in the grounds.

  The Appleby File

  There are fifteen stories in this compelling collection, including: Poltergeist – when Appleby’s wife tells him that her aunt is experiencing trouble with a Poltergeist, he is amused but dismissive, until he discovers that several priceless artefacts have been smashed as a result; A Question of Confidence – when Bobby Appleby’s friend, Brian Button, is caught up in a scandalous murder in Oxford, Bobby’s famous detective father is their first port of call; The Ascham – an abandoned car on a narrow lane intrigues Appleby and his wife, but even more intriguing is the medieval castle they stumble upon.

  Appleby on Ararat

  Inspector Appleby is stranded on a very strange island, with a rather odd bunch of people – too many men, too few women (and one of them too attractive) cause a deal of trouble. But that is nothing compared to later developments, including the body afloat in the water, and the attack by local inhabitants.

  Appleby Plays Chicken

  David was hiking across Dartmoor, pleased to have escaped the oppressively juvenile and sometimes perilous behaviour of his fellow undergraduates. As far as he could tell, he was the only human being for miles – but it turns out that he was the only living human being for miles. At least, that is what he presumed when he found a dead man on top of the tor.

  Appleby Talking

  Arbuthnot is paying for a rash decision – he recently married a beautiful but slightly amoral girl whose crazy antics caught his rather cynical professional interest. His wife has taken a lover, Rupert Slade, and Arbuthnot wants nothing more than to see him dead – but the last thing he expected was that he’d walk into his living room and find just that!

  Inspector Appleby shares the details of this and many other fascinating crimes in this un-missable collection.

  Appleby Talks Again

  Ralph Dangerfield, an Edwardian playwright who belonged to the smartest young set of his day, kept a scandalous diary recording the intimate details of his own life and those of his friends. After his death, it was believed that his mother had burnt the incriminating evidence, but fifty years later, a famous collector of literary curiosities claims to have the diary in his possession and threatens to blackmail fashionable London with belated secrets about people now in respectable old age. Sir John Appleby
reveals how he uncovered this unscrupulous crime and talks about his key role in seventeen more intriguing cases.

  Appleby’s Answer

  Author of detective novels, Priscilla Pringle, is pleased to find that she is sharing a railway compartment with a gentleman who happens to be reading one of her books – Murder in the Cathedral. He is military officer, Captain Bulkington, who recognises Miss Pringle and offers her £500 to collaborate on a detective novel. To everyone’s surprise, Miss Pringle is rather taken with Captain Bulkington – is she out of her depth?

  Appleby‘s End

  Appleby’s End was the name of the station where Detective Inspector John Appleby got off the train from Scotland Yard. But that was not the only coincidence. Everything that happened from then on related back to stories by Ranulph Raven, Victorian novelist – animals were replaced by marble effigies, someone received a tombstone telling him when he would die, and a servant was found buried up to his neck in snow, dead. Why did Ranulph Raven’s mysterious descendants make such a point of inviting Appleby to spend the night at their house?

  Appleby’s Other Story

  During a walk to Elvedon House, palatial home of the Tythertons, Sir John Appleby and Chief Constable Colonel Pride are stunned to find a police van and two cars parked outside. Wealthy Maurice Tytherton has been found shot dead, and Appleby is faced with a number of suspects – Alice Tytherton, flirtatious, younger wife of the deceased; Egon Raffaello, disreputable art dealer; and the prodigal son, Mark Tytherton, who has just returned from Argentina. Could the death be linked to the robbery of some paintings several years ago?

  An Awkward Lie

  Sir John Appleby’s son, Bobby, assumes his father’s detective role in this baffling crime. When Bobby finds a dead man, in a bunker on a golf course, he notices something rather strange – the first finger of the man’s right hand is missing. A young girl approaches the scene and offers to watch the body while Bobby goes for help, but when he returns with the police in tow, the body and the girl are missing.