The Journeying Boy

by Michael Innes

  ‘The Bolderwoods? I most unfeignedly hope so.’ And this time Mr Thewless did get firmly upright. ‘For I must confess to grave misgiving, Mr–’

  ‘Cadover. Detective-Inspector Cadover.’

  ‘Ah. Now, what was I saying? But yes, of course! I was a good deal troubled by the morality of the bargain that Miss Liberty found it necessary to make with them. I should like to think that they had been laid by the heels.’

  ‘They have a boat too – somewhere on the other side of the headland. But they have been headed off from it and driven back here. It is thought that they must be in hiding not far away. Perhaps they–’

  Here the police officer called Cadover checked himself – and with an exclamation so startled that it brought Mr Thewless swaying to his feet. They had brought him, he found, a considerable way from the burning building, and he stared unbelievingly for a moment at the flames still licking through those upper windows from which he had fought his strangely epic fight. But this scarcely detained him. For all eyes, he saw, were elsewhere.

  It was like a little battle station pitched near the edge of the cliff. Green-uniformed men were around him – one with binoculars, one crouched over what he conjectured to be a field telephone. Below them he could see a line of cliff, a segment of beach on which more uniformed men were running, a great splash of sea. And it was the sea at which all were looking. There, from behind the headland where lay the farther entrance to Humphrey’s cave, a gleaming craft had appeared hurtling through the water, the roar of its engines reverberating still among the rocks. And it was impossible to mistake that curbed and leaping prow, that low-cut stern… ‘It’s him!’ Mr Thewless cried. ‘He’s got away!’

  There were bursts of firing from the beach below, and little lines of cascading water marked the path of the bullets. But the motor-boat held on its course, heading at a tremendous pace for the open sea. In a matter of seconds it would be out of range. And Mr Thewless felt his shoulder gripped by the man beside him, heard an altogether new anxiety in that level London voice.

  ‘The boy, man! Where is he? Don’t tell me he can have got him out there?’

  ‘The boy? I hope–’

  Mr Thewless heard his own voice drowned in a new clamour, in the roar of an engine yet more powerful directly above him. A shadow skimmed the grass beside him; a wind tugged at his sparse hair; he looked up and promptly ducked – ducked in fear of sheer decapitation by the aircraft passing overhead. From a field behind them there came shots and the sound of men shouting, running. And from close beside him came an answering shout.

  ‘Great heavens, it’s my plane!’

  And the London policeman grimly nodded. ‘We ought to have thought to set a guard on it. The Bolderwoods take the last trick.’

  Mr Thewless gasped. ‘The Bolderwoods…they’re in that?’

  ‘They’ve stolen it.’ Suddenly the grip that was still on Mr Thewless’ shoulder tightened. ‘Look! I believe he can’t–’

  Cadover’s voice died away. Steeply climbing, the little aircraft was now out beyond the cliffs; climbing more steeply still, it slipped, staggered, spun… There was a moment’s complete silence, broken by a soft Irish voice from the man with the field-glasses. ‘And no more he can, by all the saints! It’s a mortal certainty he never held the controls of a plane before this fearful day.’

  The plane rose again, for a second hung sluggishly in air, turned over, fell. It fell, Mr Thewless thought, much as a gannet dives… And directly beneath it was the hurtling motor-cruiser. There was a single blinding flash, a single deafening detonation. Mr Thewless shut his eyes. When he opened them the man with the field-glasses was crossing himself, was muttering a prayer. And the sea was utterly empty. Where the bearded man, where Cyril and Ivor Bolderwood, had been urging their flight a moment before, there was only a sullen and spreading pool of oil, circled by a single screaming gull. It was an end at once horrifying and grotesquely theatrical – as if some trap-door had opened and incontinently swept half the dramatis personae from the stage.

  ‘Somewhere up there?’ The officer with the field-glasses swept the hillsides before turning a puzzled face to Mr Thewless. ‘We don’t quite see how–’

  ‘How The Purloined Letter comes in.’ Cadover too had binoculars, and he spoke without taking them from his eyes. ‘I think you did say The Purloined Letter?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Mr Thewless – rather to his own surprise – was biting hungrily into a sandwich which he held in his uninjured left hand. ‘You see, the ruffians were advancing to attack us in force; and the only thing seemed to be to get the boy away – and, of course, Miss Liberty as well. But there seemed no chance that they could slip away unseen, since the gang would almost certainly have the countryside under observation just as you have it now. So it occurred to me that they must be positively obtrusive – positively staring, so to speak – and find a sort of invisibility in that. And that was just how the letter in Poe’s story–’

  The man with the field-glasses exclaimed softly, his instrument focused upon one of the highest fields beyond the village. ‘And when you were after thinking all this, Mr Thewless – what then?’

  ‘We had noticed how brilliantly many of the peasantry show up against the green grass because of the rich colours in which they dye their homespun cloth. You can see them there’ – and Mr Thewless pointed – ‘tiny splashes of red and blue right out on the mountain-side. So we hunted quickly through the servants’ quarters and found a sufficiency of such things – for Miss Liberty a deep blue skirt, and for Humphrey some really brave claret-coloured trousers. Then Miss Liberty took a basket to balance on her head, and the boy a bundle for his back. Once they were a little beyond the house, and simply plodding openly across the fields, there was a good chance that they would be all right; that they would pass through whatever cordon the enemy had out. The danger was that the enemy might already have got into a position from which they were bound to spot them actually leaving. But it was necessary to risk that. And when they had gone – and I was never so glad of anything in my life – I prepared to give the effect of several people standing siege at the top of the servants’ staircase. It proved to be excellently adapted for the purpose.’ And Mr Thewless nodded with an assurance that almost touched complacency. ‘I really believe I could scarcely have chosen better.’

  Cadover and the green-uniformed man now both had their glasses fixed on the same distant spot. It was again the latter who spoke. ‘Yes – to be sure! You’ll be remarking, Mr Thewless, how they put out the long skeins of dyed wool to dry in the fields and along the hedges? Well, there’s two folk at that up there now – and I’d say that one of them had claret-coloured trousers that are brave enough.’ He laughed softly. ‘Now, I wonder who he’d have persuaded to give him all that wool?’

  Cadover too laughed – a short, deep laugh that spoke of a long strain broken. ‘And he is entering into the deception with a will. He’s laying the stuff out on the grass like anything.’ He paused. ‘Hullo! I’m blessed if he hasn’t formed letters with it. He. Now, why should the lad want to write He?’

  Mr Thewless smiled. ‘Not He, Inspector. H E.’

  ‘You’re quite right. And he’s going on. H E H…’

  ‘H E H P… Humphrey has a string of names, of which he is inclined to be rather proud. It’s his way of letting us know, you see, that all is well with them up there. I wonder if we can send some signal back? I believe he would be quite glad to think that things have gone not too badly with me down here.’

  The green-uniformed man called out an order; there was a sharp report; a green Very light burst in the air. Mr Thewless watched it and judged it entirely beautiful.

  ‘A capable boy,’ he said. ‘Really, a thoroughly capable boy.’

  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 bo
dy 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.

  The Bloody Wood

  An assorted party of guests have gathered at Charne, home of Charles Martineau and his ailing wife, Grace, including Sir John Appleby and his wife, Judith. Appleby’s suspicions are soon aroused with the odd behaviour of Charles, and the curious last request of Grace – who desires that upon her death, Charles marries her favourite niece, Martine. When Charles and Grace die on the same day, foul play is suspected.

  Carson’s Conspiracy

  Businessman Carl Carson decides to make a dash for South America to escape the economic slump, leaving his home and his barmy wife. But he has a problem – if his company were seen to be drawing in its horns, it wouldn’t last a week. His solution is his wife’s favourite delusion – an imaginary son, named Robin. Carson plans to stage a fictitious kidnapping – after all, what could be more natural than a father liquidating his assets to pay the ransom demand? Unfortunately, Carson has a rather astute neighbour – Sir John Appleby, ex-Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.

  A Change of Heir

  George Gadberry, ‘resting actor’, packs his bags and heads for obscurity when the Tax Inspector beckons. Then he receives a mysterious invitation and a proposition that could lead to enormous riches. Wealthy imbiber, Nicholas Comberford, wants George to impersonate him in order to secure a place in the will of fabulously affluent Great-Aunt Prudence, who lives in a Cistercian monastery and won’t allow a single drop of liquor in the place. Gadberry’s luck seems to have changed – but at what cost?

  Christmas at Candleshoe

  When an American multi-millionaire is keen to buy an Elizabethan manor, she comes up against fierce opposition from a young boy, Jay, and his band of bowmen, who are prepared to defend the manor and its nonagerian owner against all comers. It seems likely that that behind a monumental, seventeenth-century carving, by the hand of Gerard Christmas, lies a hoard of treasure.

  A Connoisseur’s Case

  When John Appleby’s wife, Judith, sets eyes on Scroop House, she insists that they introdu
ce themselves to the owners – a suggestion that makes her sometimes reserved husband turn very pale. When Judith hears the village gossip about the grand house, she is even more intrigued; but when a former employee is found dead in the lock of the disused canal, and the immense wealth of Scroop’s contents is revealed, Appleby has a gripping investigation on his hands.

  The Daffodil Affair

  Inspector Appleby’s aunt is most distressed when her horse, Daffodil – a somewhat half-witted animal with exceptional numerical skills – goes missing from her stable I Harrogate. Meanwhile, Hudspith is hot on the trail of Lucy Rideout, an enigmatic young girl has been whisked away to an unknown isle by a mysterious gentleman. And when a house in Bloomsbury, supposedly haunted, also goes missing, the baffled policemen search for a connection. As Appleby and Hudspith trace Daffodil and Lucy, the fragments begin to come together and an extravagant project is uncovered, leading them to South American jungle.

  Death at the Chase

  When master sleuth, Appleby, leaps over a stile during a country stroll, he is apprehended by an irate Martyn Ashmore, owner of the land on which Appleby has unwittingly trespassed. But when the misunderstanding is cleared up, eccentric, aged Ashmore reveals that he is in fear for his life – once every year, someone attempts to murder him. Is it the French Resistance, or a younger Ashmore on the make? When Martyn dies, Appleby sets out to find who exactly is responsible.

  Death At The President’s Lodging

  Inspector Appleby is called to St Anthony’s College, where the President has been murdered in his Lodging. Scandal abounds when it becomes clear that the only people with any motive to murder him are the only people who had the opportunity – because the President’s Lodging opens off Orchard Ground, which is locked at night, and only the Fellows of the College have keys…