“A high line?” Mrs Harbot was puzzled.
“He said that the greatest propriety had to be observed in using the royal coat of arms, or anything like it; and that if he had been consulted he would have vetoed the proposal at once. Well, I concluded that the other Jewellers had by-passed old Anchor in the matter, and that I had properly put my foot in it. So I endeavoured to escape. I didn’t get away, however, until I had heard a good deal more in the way of criticism of the Jewellers’ recent policies. For instance, there was this business of the Ruritanian regalia.”
Mrs Harbot sighed delightedly. “The crown jewels?”
“Precisely. The Jewellers were displaying them in a window, behind a steel grill, and Lord Anchor believed that this was likely to cause some resentment in émigré Ruritanian circles in this country. There was no doubt about the Company’s legal right to the jewels – the intrinsic value of which, indeed, was not very considerable. They had been handed over with the authority of the former royal family and its ministers as part-security for a loan that went west in the abortive counter-revolution of 1925. But there had been some sore feelings – even litigation – and Anchor felt that to make the ancient crown and so forth part of a topical display had been an error in tact. He pointed out that the beautiful young Grand Duchess Paulina, the claimant to the Ruritanian throne, was in London at this moment.”
“Isn’t that just too romantic?” Mrs Harbot was enthralled.
Appleby shook his head. “I assure you that I haven’t come to the romantic part yet. Anchor held forth for some time in this vein, and my impression was that the old chap was talking sense. I left him in a state of considerable indignation. But it was nothing to the state in which I found Colonel Busteed when, later in the evening, I came back to the club. It appeared that the Lion and the Unicorn were automata.”
“Automata?” It was Lady Appleby who was startled this time. “You mean they moved – were worked by machinery?”
“So Busteed had convinced himself. There are such things round about London at the moment, you know – and quite amusing some of them are. But the application of the principle to these particular heraldic symbols had apparently struck Busteed as grossly unsuitable. I wasn’t myself all that shocked; it seemed to me that the Lion and the Unicorn could bob or beck at each other harmlessly enough. I was surprised, however, when Busteed told me what the Lion did. It scratched.”
Mrs Harbot stared. “Scratched the Unicorn?”
“Not even that. The Lion scratched itself. Busteed had only glimpsed the phenomenon in the dusk on his way to dinner, but he was quite sure of it. I confess that I was a good deal puzzled. Busteed, although our great authority here on both port and Madeira, is a most abstemious man, and I found it hard to imagine that he had been other than quite sober.
“As it happened, I hadn’t much leisure to consider the matter, for I was simply eating a hasty late meal before going back for some hours’ work at the Yard. It was after midnight before the problem came into my head again – but when it did come, it came to stick. Lord Anchor’s ignorance and Colonel Busteed’s impression were both mildly surprising; taken together, they constituted something really odd. I ended by setting the telephone going and eventually tracked down the Jewellers’ secretary in his bed. My story was news to him. He had never heard of a proposal to put up any decoration of the sort I described. He suggested contacting his night-watchman at once.
“I had already tried ringing the Jewellers’ premises, and there had been no reply. It seemed clear that there was trouble, so I called out a car and came round with a couple of constables straight away. The street-lighting illuminated the lower part of the building clearly enough, but above the cornice it faded into darkness, so that there was no more than a vague blob to suggest what we were looking for. The car, however, had a powerful spotlight, and we had this focused in a matter of seconds. The coat of arms was there. But both the Lion and the Unicorn had gone.”
“Gone?” Mrs Harbot was perplexed. “I don’t see how automata could go.”
Appleby chuckled. “Augustly employed automata don’t scratch themselves either. But humans may be tempted to do so – particularly if constrained to maintain uncomfortable postures in unusual habiliments. I had no doubt that we were in the presence of an ingenious plot to gain access to the Jewellers’ building by the one vulnerable route – the windows in the mansard roof.
“There was an awkward pause while we waited for keys. When the secretary arrived with them he brought Lord Anchor as well – in high feather, it seemed to me, that the Company had run into a spot of trouble. He hadn’t the slightest doubt that it was the Ruritanian regalia that was the occasion of it. We hadn’t got far in our search of the building when we knew that he was right.
“From somewhere in the bowels of the place there came a muffled thumping and hollaring. I needn’t say that this was from the night-watchman, who had met the invasion of his territory with singularly little efficiency and been ignominiously locked up. But another sound was more commanding – and for some seconds thoroughly perplexing as well. I had a queer impression that it was something I had heard often enough – and yet never, so to speak, in this workaday world. The truth appeared when we burst into the main showroom of the place. A wide space had been cleared in the middle, the Ruritanian crown stood isolated on a table at the side, and before it the Lion and the Unicorn were at a ding-dong duel with sabres. It was first-class cinema stuff.”
“Of the Walt Disney sort?” Lady Appleby was again sceptical. “Animals fighting duels–”
“The Lion I recognised at once. Even with the headpiece of his bizarre disguise laid aside he was leonine – none other, in fact, than the venerable Count X, formerly Lord Chamberlain at the court of Ruritania. And the Unicorn, as it happened, I also knew. He was the dashing young Baron Y, youngest son of that almost legendary Ruritanian–”
“And they had fallen out?” Mrs Harbot was distressed. “Now, if that wasn’t just too bad! When they could have got clean away, too, with that wonderful old crown.”
Appleby shook his head. “It wasn’t precisely a falling out. Each of these noblemen had discovered that the other was pledged to recover the crown for the beautiful Grand Duchess. They had agreed therefore to join forces until the prize was actually in their grasp – and then to fight for the privilege of laying it at the feet of their adored mistress.”
“Sir John – if that wasn’t a chivalrous thing!”
“Indeed, yes. Well, it was the younger man who reacted the more quickly to the new situation. Dropping his sabre – the Jewellers, you know, have a mass of such things dating from the early history of their Company – the young Baron Y seized his country’s historic crown, evaded us, and dashed from the building. Still retaining his own weapon, the venerable Count X pursued him. We followed.”
Lady Appleby looked at her husband in what might have been either admiration or profound distrust. “The Lion, in fact, beat the Unicorn all round about the town?”
“Precisely, Judith – you express it very well. And the pursuit, as you will immediately realise, was much complicated by the state the streets had by this time assumed. Time being short, I will not describe it in detail. Suffice it that both noblemen eventually took refuge in their own Embassy. It is much to the credit of the present republican regime in Ruritania that they were admitted without hesitation… Do I hear a band?”
Mrs Harbot drew a deep breath. “And the crown? That is now in the hands of the Republic too?”
“By no means. The young Baron Y, with all his famous father’s happiness in such ticklish situations, secreted it as he fled. Look around you, my dear Mrs Harbot. Very tolerably colourable crowns of all sizes hang as thick as blackberries in the streets of this loyal city today. The young Baron has simply added to the display by climbing to the top of some lamp-post and depositing a real one. As soon as his escapade is composed with the authorities – which I can promise you will be in a few hours time – he wi
ll recover it, and thus claim the victory over his venerable countryman and rival.”
For a moment Mrs Harbot was almost awed. “But the Jewellers?”
“Lord Anchor has declared that he will put his foot down. The incident is to be declared closed, and no restitution of the crown will be demanded. The Grand Duchess, I don’t doubt, will be permitted to carry it off in triumph to her beautiful Californian home.”
Mrs Harbot was much affected. Lady Appleby regarded her with some compunction. “I must really explain that my husband is given to rather tall–”
But Appleby suddenly leant forward.
“They’re coming!” he said.
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 blackma
il 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?
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