I was still wondering about this, weighing the possibility of a rugger tackle, when all four men came abreast of me and laboured on without a pause. I just mightn’t have been there. They weren’t interested in the intrusive schoolmaster – or an insignificant snooping cop. Their original captives, the only important ones, were still ahead.
I remembered what lay immediately in front of us all: the enormous gravel pit which had been turned, with small success, into an Aquatic Leisure Park. Nobody was going to be leisured there now. I wondered whether the great expanse of dirty water was frozen over – and, if so, whether it would also be under a blanket of snow.
Then, with amazing suddenness, the entire situation was transformed.
The sound of an engine made itself heard behind us. Then the sound of many engines. It was as if a whole traffic jam had dropped out of the sky upon this empty terrain. Labouring uselessly in the rear of the desperate chase, I halted and looked behind me. There was a police car, now stationary, not a hundred yards away. There were more police cars following, and in an instant policemen were tumbling out of the whole lot. As if by way of variety, there was also what I thought of as a Black Maria, and a couple of men were tumbling out of that too. Closing the amazing procession was an ambulance. Its bell was clanging violently – possibly by way of intimating to the criminals that all was up with them, and that they would presently be inside it and in poor condition if they resisted arrest.
But the race went on regardless. David was out in front. Perhaps because lighter than Robin, and so sinking less heavily into the snow as he ran, he looked to be the first who would breast some imaginary tape. The four pursuers were in a clump together, but must have been by now conscious that they were themselves pursued.
‘Stop, David! Stop!’
It was Robin’s shout again. Robin, having become aware as David had not of the transformed state of the case, knew that flight was no longer required of either of them. They had only to stand their ground and the police would be up with them almost in the same moment as with the enemy. An Uptoncester boy, he also knew about the gravel pit – the gravel pit in which it had been possible to water-ski or to indulge in the fascinating new Planche à Voile. The kidnappers knew about it too. Even as I looked, two of them turned one way and two of them the other, proposing to skirt the great sheet of ice – for it was that – on opposite banks. No longer hunters but hunted, their aim was simply to escape amid the obliterating snows if they could.
David, still in blind terror, paid no heed to Robin’s cry. He ran straight ahead, and in an instant was in mortal danger. The snow his heels sent flying no longer covered solid earth. Beneath it was the ice – perhaps no more than a skin of ice – and beneath that again dark water of unknown depth. On this new surface the boy ought to have slipped and fallen almost at once. But for fatal seconds, for a score of paces, his balance held. Then disaster struck. The ice split beneath him with a sound like a pistol-shot, shattering into fragments for a wide space around. And the judge’s grandson had disappeared.
It was now the police that shouted – commanding Robin to stop. But Robin didn’t. He didn’t pause for an instant. He was in the water amid jagged stars of floating ice. Then he too vanished. When he reappeared he had David in his grasp. There were policemen – some of the policemen – in the water as well. Heavy-booted, they had plunged straight in. Others of them continued to pursue the criminals. I had a weird brief glimpse of them vanishing from the picture with unnatural speed, as in some grotesque episode of knockabout comedy on a screen. Robin was struggling with David towards the shore. There were policemen, up to their necks in water, only yards away. Then what seemed the final horror happened. The rescue went wrong, for the rescuer had succumbed to panic – just as in the Helmingham swimming bath on a day that seemed aeons remote. In a flailing confusion, both boys vanished.
There was a strange cry, and a new figure dashed past me. I recognised him as one of the men who had jumped from the Black Maria. I recognised, in fact, Robin’s father: Mr Hayes, that talented escapologist. He was in the water – and as a professional among amateurs. None of the policemen now gallantly floundering had ever played water polo and gained a half-blue for it. They did their job, all the same – receiving first one and then the other boy into strong supporting arms. His effort made, Mr Hayes himself was only a few strokes from shore. But suddenly he gave another, and yet stranger, cry. His head went under. It didn’t come up again. Perhaps his heart was dicky. Perhaps even, he’d had enough: one simply doesn’t know. When they recovered his body it was to be under thicker ice near the middle of the pool.
Surprisingly, I found that Owen Marchmont was standing beside me.
‘How on earth . . .?’ I asked.
‘That chap Ogilvy’s work. Smart fellow for a desk-wallah. Found a pal of one of the men in gaol – Kissack – had operated, and still seemed to own, some crack-pot concern in this – heaven save us – industrial estate. It was a lead. Then there turned out to be a council employee who patrols it once a week, and who had spotted some odd activities. It struck Ogilvy as worth piling in. As for the old sod, I thought to come over and pick him up quietly from the family home myself. The police van was to accommodate the real crooks as well.’
‘You wouldn’t call Hayes a real crook?’
‘He was a bloody small one. But I always thought there was some spunk in him.’ Marchmont said this with satisfaction. ‘And now he’s quit of another open prison.’
I didn’t much attend to this last philosophical remark. I was looking at the two survivors, stripped of their sodden clothes and huddled in warm blankets from the ambulance in which they would presently be carried away, certified as suffering from ‘shock’. Now they were sitting side by side on a bench, staring blankly ahead, unaware of one another. Robin seemed older, and his physical likeness to his dead father had increased oddly. David, barbarously bereft of his golden curls, had a head too small for his body. He had become rather an unattractive boy.
Works of J.I.M. Stewart
‘Staircase in Surrey’ Quintet
These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
The Gaudy (1974)
Young Pattullo (1975)
Memorial Service (1976)
The Madonna of the Astrolabe (1977)
Full Term (1978)
Other Works
Published or to be published by House of Stratus
A. Novels
Mark Lambert’s Supper (1954)
The Guardians (1955)
A Use of Riches (1957)
The Man Who Won the Pools (1961)
The Last Tresilians (1963)
An Acre of Grass (1965)
The Aylwins (1966)
Vanderlyn’s Kingdom (1967)
Avery’s Mission (1971)
A Palace of Art (1972)
Mungo’s Dream (1973)
Andrew and Tobias (1980)
A Villa in France (1982)
An Open Prison (1984)
The Naylors (1985)
B. Short Story Collections
The Man Who Wrote Detective Stories (1959)
Cucumber Sandwiches (1969)
Our England Is a Garden (1979)
The Bridge at Arta (1981)
My Aunt Christina (1983)
Parlour Four (1984)
C. Non-fiction
Educating the Emotions (1944)
Character and Motive in Shakespeare (1949)
James Joyce (1957)
Eight Modern Writers (1963)
Thomas Love Peacock (1963)
Rudyard Kipling (1966)
Joseph Conrad (1968)
Shakespeare’s Lofty Scene (1971)
Thomas Hardy: A Critical Biography (1971)
Plus a further 48 Titles published under the pseudonym ‘Michael Innes’
Select Synopses
Staircase in Surrey
The Gaudy
The first volume in J.I.M. Stewart’s acclaime
d ‘A Staircase in Surrey’ quintet, (but the second in time), ‘The Gaudy’ opens in Oxford at the eponymous annual dinner laid on by the Fellows for past members. Distinguished guests, including the Chancellor (a former Prime Minister) are present and Duncan Pattullo, now also qualified to attend, gets to meet some of his friends and enemies from undergraduate days. As the evening wears on, Duncan finds himself embroiled in many of the difficulties and problems faced by some of them, including Lord Marchpayne, now a Cabinet Minister; another Don, Ranald McKenechnie; and Gavin Mogridge who is famous for an account he wrote of his adventures in a South American jungle. But it doesn’t stop there, as Pattullo acquires a few problems of his own and throughout the evening and the next day various odd developments just add to his difficulties, leading him to take stock of both his past and future.
Young Pattullo
This is the second of the ‘A Staircase in Surrey’ quintet, and the first in chronological order. Duncan Pattullo arrives in Oxford, destined to be housed off the quadrangle his father has chosen simply for its architectural and visual appeal. On the staircase in Surrey, Duncan meets those who are to become his new friends and companions, and there occurs all of the usual student antics and digressions, described by Stewart with his characteristic wit, to amuse and enthral the reader. After a punting accident, however, the girl who is in love with Duncan suffers as a result of his self-sacrificing actions. His cousin, Anna, is also involved in an affair, but she withholds the name of her lover, despite being pregnant. This particular twist reaches an ironical conclusion towards the end of the novel, in another of Stewart’s favourite locations; Italy. Indeed, Young Pattullo covers all of the writer’s favourite subjects and places; the arts, learning, mystery and intrigue, whilst ranging from his much loved Oxford, through Scotland and the inevitable Italian venue. This second volume of the acclaimed series can be read in order, or as a standalone novel.
Memorial Service
This is the third novel in the Oxford quintet entitled ‘Staircase in Surrey’. Duncan Pattullo returns in middle age to his old college. The Provost is heavily engaged in trying to secure a benefaction from a charitable trust which the old and outrageous Cedric Mumford influences. One significant complication is the presence in college of Ivo Mumford, Cedric’s grandson. He is badly behaved and far from a credit to the college. His magazine, ‘Priapus’ proves to be wholly objectionable. Stewart explores the nature of the complicated relationships between the characters with his usual wit, literary style and intellectual precision and turns what might otherwise be a very common and ordinary situation into something that will grip the reader from cover to cover.
The Madonna of the Astrolabe
In the fourth of J.I.M. Stewart’s acclaimed ‘Staircase in Surrey’ quintet the gravity of a surveyor’s report given to the Governing Body is the initial focus. The document is alarming. The Governing Body, an assembly of which Pattullo was in awe, was equally awed by the dimensions of the crisis revealed. It would seem that the consideration was whether there would literally be a roof over their heads for much longer. The first rumblings from the college tower brings the thought well and truly home to Pattullo. ‘Professor Sanctuary,’ the Provost said evenly, ‘favours the immediate launching of an appeal . . .’ And so it begins . . . In J.I.M. Stewart’s superbly melding of wit, mystery, observation and literary prowess a gripping novel develops that will enthral the reader from cover to cover. This can be read as part of the series, or as a standalone novel.
Full Term
The final volume in the ‘A Staircase in Surrey’ quintet. Duncan Pattullo is coming to the end of his term as ‘narrator’ and is thinking of re-marrying, although his former wife continues to cause difficulties. His intended is also providing gossip for the college, but that is as nothing compared to the scandal caused by Watershute, an eminent nuclear physicist. His misdemeanours range from abandoning his family and conducting an affair in Venice, to being drunk at High Table. However, things get very serious when he appears to be involved in activities that might amount to treason. An interesting and convoluted plot, which is a fitting end to this acclaimed series, is carried forward with J.I.M. Stewart’s hallmark skill and wit. Full Term can be read in order, or as a standalone novel.
Other Fiction
Bridge At Arta
Lady Cameron and Charles Hornett had been married some fifty years before, but Hornett has now forgotten all about it. Embarrassment is therefore evident when they find themselves as part of a party holidaying in Greece. Meanwhile, the Balmaynes realise they nothing about Roland Redpath, who is about to marry their daughter, but he is in fact the son of their onetime dishonest butler. But that isn’t the end of it, as yet more shocks and surprises are forthcoming as the story unfolds. In other stories in the collection there is a hitherto unknown Wordsworth manuscript and sensational development with regard to Coleridge. We are also taken to Vienna and to a rural location in an effort to reveal the identity of an arsonist. Full of wit, humour and suspense, these stories bear all of the hallmarks of the expected first class Stewart penmanship.
Mungo’s Dream
Mungo Lockhart goes up to Oxford and find himself sharing a room with the Honourable Ian Cardower, who is heir to a rich title and estate. Unimpressed by rank or riches, Mungo is nonetheless wary in his exchanges with Cardower, and this is reciprocated. However, the two do become good friends and Cardower takes Mungo on visits to his parents’ home, to visit the head of the family, Lord Audlearn at Bamberton Court – a stately home in the grand style – and then to Mallachie, the true family seat, where the eldest son Lord Brightmony lives in splendid isolation, save for his companion; Leonard Sedley, sometime novelist. All seems well, except for Mungo noticing the interest shown by the family in a young Scots boy of uncertain parentage. The story takes on an obvious twist with the usual suspicions and uncertainties mounting, lawyers being called in, and general acrimony, but the final crisis and confrontation is of a surprising nature and an unusual explanation unfolds. On the way, Stewart of course introduces sub-plots and high comedy in his usual literary style. The novel is thought provoking, teasing, and thoroughly entertaining and fascinatingly descriptive of the various locations; Oxford, Perugia in Italy, and Scotland.
Open Prison
The Head of House at a minor public school, Robin Hayes, has to break the news that his solicitor father has been found guilty of embezzlement and sentenced to two years in an open prison. He now feels he needs to prove himself afresh, but complications arise when another junior pupil turns out to be the grandson of the judge who passed sentence on his father. Nonetheless, the boys do form a relationship. A strange intervention in Robin’s life comes with generous gifts of cash from his uncle, who is also seemingly similarly supporting his father. This, however, is only the background to a typical Stewart mystery. There occurs a double kidnapping, the father suddenly and inexplicably rejects his son, the son goes to pieces and there are sufficient sub-plots to provide enough twists and turns to grip the reader as the final twist in the tale develops.
Palace of Art
Gloria Montacute is in Venice, having temporarily removed herself from England following the death of her mother and inheriting a great collection of art treasures. The monetary value of these is of no consequence to her – she has previously worked in a lowly capacity in a London hospital and possesses a strong sense of social responsibility which outweighs any material wealth. This is in stark contrast to her dead mother who did not really appreciate the ‘art’, but viewed the treasures as rapidly soaring investments. Dealers gather and salivate, and one of them sends a handsome young man to Venice. Jake, Gloria’s cousin, and Henry, a neighbour, also pursue her. Gloria harbours suspicions that this be because of her inheritance. The conclusion is as much a surprise as we have come to expect from Stewart’s novels, on this occasion weaved by Gloria herself in a splendidly romantic manner. With wit and humour, yet with a vein of seriousness running throughout, Stewart manages to br
ing all of the characters to life and grip the reader right to the end.
Parlour Four and Other Stories
A small boy is kind someone disabled, with unexpected consequences. A young lover presents a ring found on a French beach to the girl of his dreams, but doesn’t appreciate its history and value. Meanwhile in Oxford the Bodleian Library is mysteriously empty, whilst one of the dons very unwisely turns to writing fiction, but becomes a bestselling author. And in yet another tale, a cruel ending brings the absurdity of death into sharp focus. All of the stories in this collection focus on life’s ironies and absurdities and are told with Stewart’s usual wit and wisdom, with due attention to detail.
Non-Fiction
Thomas Hardy
Thomas Hardy was considered a Victorian sage, but not everyone fully appreciated his worth and genius. T.S. Eliot stated that Hardy wrote ‘as nearly for the sake of self-expression as a man well can’ and that the outcome was not to be described as ‘particularly wholesome or edifying’. J.I.M. Stewart famously defended Hardy against these charges in a paper and has now expanded his views in this comprehensive biography. Stewart’s work is not, however, any form of apology for Hardy; he critically examines the life and work of the genius that emerged from humble origins and notes that he often wrote sensationally and outside of his own social experience. This volume describes the genesis of Hardy’s more famous works, along with the minor ones, and shows how the biographical background influenced his writing. What emerges is a picture of Hardy the artist, carefully building a symmetry in his works, along with immense narrative powers, and developing a deep understanding of rural life and community. Attention is also given to Hardy’s poetry and the manner in which this is distinguished from others poets of the age. This is a masterful biography from a man who in turn was an author and scholar of high literary ability and reputation.
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