Mystery Mile
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Albert Campion is sailing home when he saves the life of fellow passenger, Judge Crowdy Lobbett. Hunted by the notoriously deadly Simister gang, it seems as though the judge's troubles have followed him from America.
Determined to catch the infamous gang leader, Albert bundles the judge, along with his son Marlowe and beautiful daughter Isopel, to the manor at Mystery Mile, where he hopes to lure the villain out into the open. But the safe haven of Mystery Mile is soon invaded by danger, and when people start disappearing, the race to uncover the enigma of their enemy's true identity becomes ever more urgent.
Mystery Mile, first published in 1930, is the second Margery Allingham novel starring eccentric and well-loved amateur sleuth, Albert Campion.
Margery Allingham
Margery Louise Allingham is ranked among the most distinguished and beloved detective fiction writers of the Golden Age alongside Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Ngaio Marsh. Allingham is J.K. Rowling's favourite Golden Age author and Agatha Christie said of Allingham that out of all the detective stories she remembers, Margery Allingham 'stands out like a shining light'. She was born in Ealing, London in 1904 to a very literary family; her parents were both writers, and her aunt ran a magazine, so it was natural that Margery too would begin writing at an early age. She wrote steadily through her school days, first in Colchester and later as a boarder at the Perse School for Girls in Cambridge, where she wrote, produced, and performed in a costume play. After her return to London in 1920 she enrolled at the Regent Street Polytechnic, where she studied drama and speech training in a successful attempt to overcome a childhood stammer. There she met Phillip Youngman Carter, who would become her husband and collaborator, designing the jackets for many of her future books. The Allingham family retained a house on Mersea Island, a few miles from Layer Breton, and it was here that Margery found the material for her first novel, the adventure story Blackkerchief Dick (1923), which was published when she was just nineteen. She went on to pen multiple novels, some of which dealt with occult themes and some with mystery, as well as writing plays and stories – her first detective story, The White Cottage Mystery, was serialized in the Daily Express in 1927. Allingham died at the age of 62, and her final novel, A Cargo of Eagles, was finished by her husband at her request and published posthumously in 1968.
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Reviews for Mystery Mile
241 ratings16 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The second Campion adventure-thriller is the first to feel like it knows completely what it's doing, right from the very first scene; Allingham has clearly made a choice to focus on the previously secondary character of Albert Campion, and she dives into his world feet-first. I have been known to compare the tone of the 1930s books, sometimes, to the comic album (latterly, "graphic novel") world of the Belgian reporter-hero Tintin, and the opening of Mystery Mile, set aboard a sea voyage, pretty much typifies that. There is an international flavor, some broad comedy, and the revelation of narrowly-escaped death, which shoves the reader straight into the fast-paced plot. Later, there will be a mysterious garden maze, a clergyman with grave secrets, and a foreboding fortune-teller - Anglicized, but no less familiar as the kind of elements you might find in any of Hergé's Tintin adventures.As Tintin only began in 1929, right as Allingham was composing this novel, it is, perhaps, doubtful if one really inspired the other; these kinds of stories seemed to sizzle through the air between the two World Wars, reflecting not only political concerns and increased global travel but the ever-encroaching dominance of the media (newspapers, radio and cinema). What's interesting, though, is how Allingham uses these tropes. Although they certainly keep the reader engaged, they're also something of a diversion; this is a novel where people disguise their true characters, and for once, it isn't just Mr. Campion playing the long game. Appreciating Mystery Mile strictly for its surface-level entertainments is fine, but it's an incomplete understanding. There's more going on here.Allingham would continue to refine both her style and her characters as time went on, and following Mystery Mile, she never really attempted the frothy international crime story again. (They are hard to make work in novel form, as Agatha Christie discovered in The Big Four.) It's to her credit, then, that this one example is as entertaining and exciting as it is. It serves as an excellent reintroduction to the world of Albert Campion - a world of glib talk, colorful characters, and unexpected deceit.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I confess, the five stars for this one is primarily for the character, Campion. O. M. G. He's rather Lymond-esqe. Made my little heart go pitty-pat. Must find more books about him--the list inside the front cover says there are 22. Lovely.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mystery Mile really has everything a mystery novel wants--a fun premise, interesting side characters, excellent villain, red herrings, and a satisfying conclusion. It also stands alone quite a bit better than some of the other Campion books.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This is the first Allingham mystery that features Albert Campion as the main character, and it's excellent fun. Campion takes on a challenge when he agrees to protect a cantankerous American judge from the shadowy gang that's trying to eliminate him. There's kidnapings, fisticuffs, quicksand, smoke bombs, gloating villains, and of course, Albert Campion acting affable and stupid right up until the moment when he saves the day. Thumbs up!
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Returning home to London from the United States on a steamship, the vacuous-seeming Albert Campion saves Judge Crowdy Lobbett from death by electrocution from a poorly-wired magician’s cabinet. Judge Lobbett, as Campion learns from a fellow passenger, Alistair Ferguson Babar, has recently escaped death four times – accidents that killed individuals close to him. Lobbett is the judge attempting to take down the infamous Simister gang. The gang operates internationally, and no one has ever seen Simister, the leader of the gang, except for one man who was killed shortly afterward. In London, Campion is visited by Lobbett’s son, Malcolm, who enlists Campion’s help to keep his father alive. Thinking of his friends Giles and Biddy Paget and their secluded home on Mystery Mile, a tiny village surrounded by marshes, Campion convinces the Lobbett family to rent the Padget’s home for the next few weeks. However, after dinner on the very night the Lobbetts arrive, the Lobetts, Pagets, Campion and the village’s vicar are visited by a wandering palmist who seems to know more about them than he should. After the palmist leaves, the vicar excuses himself, returns to his home, and commits suicide. The next day, Judge Lobbett disappears from the center of a maze on the Paget’s property, and soon afterward, Biddy is kidnapped. Campion knows that it is the work of the Simister gang and to protect his friends and the Judge, he must stop Simister himself at any cost.Mystery Mile is the second book in Margery Allingham’s Campion series, but is the first to feature Albert Campion as the main character. We know little of Campion as a character after the first book, as Allingham intended to have another character feature in her mystery series. Campion is a very intelligent and resourceful individual; however, he frequently plays the part of a very fatuous well-to-do Englishman, who, as a result, is underestimated by the villain in the book. I also think he is underestimated by readers, especially in the early books, before Allingham matures him as a man and a detective, and he loses his silliness in later books. Although Allingham was considered one of the “Queens of Crime” during the Golden Age of Detection, Mystery Mile is not a typical whodunit of the period. It has some whodunit elements, as well as some spy elements and is also something of an adventure story. There is the obligatory death, but this is not a typical murder mystery. I realize there are many who don’t like Allingham as much as Christie or Sayers, but I find Campion’s silliness fun – there are so many serious detectives, and Campion can be serious, but he does have an irreverent side that I find very refreshing. I honestly did not catch on to the identity of the villain and there were one or two other “red herrings” that worked on me and contributed to my enjoyment.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This was a good read. The character has clearly developed from the first appearance and is clearly now the lynchpin of the book. He is also becomming more of an individual. There are elements that could be described as Whimsey-esque, but he manages to get by without Whimsey's angst. There is an air of Bertie Wooster about him in some senses, but there is also the sense that beneath the featherlight exterior there is something steely. I'm still intrigued as to who he really is. There's the suggestion that he's aristocracy, but seems perfectly at home dealing with the lower classes and even the criminal classes if the need arises.
In this book he comes up against a rather nasty gang that's led by a mastermind and has tentacles everywhere. An American judge believes he has something on the mastermind, but doesn't know what - and nor does the gang, but they think it's enough to try and scare him into dropping the subject or handing over the evidence. Campion gets involved with the Judge on the boat over from the States and spends the rest of the book trying to find out what the Judge has, trying to keep him alive and identifying the mastermind. There's the side issue of an unrequited romance, but that just goes to make him seem that little more human.
It was a bit of a gripper and I quite enjoyed it. May well work my way along this shelf bit by bit. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Erika got this for me, the second in a series. Can't wait to start it since I enjoyed the first book.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Originally published in 1930, it took a bit of time to get into the style of writing, and I did find the phonetic dialect too much at times, and Campion's frivolity.
After many attempts on his life American Judge Crowdy Lobbett comes to England. Attempts, because he believes he has a clue to the identity of a criminal mastermind, enter Albert Campion with a plan to protect him and hopefully unmask the criminal.
A NetGalley Book. - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5As good as Agatha Christie. J K Rowling said she enjoyed the author so I thought I'd better try her. Yes, she is a good mystery writer.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Another disappointing early Allingham. Campion is less consistently fatuous than in his first appearance but still exhibits less than impressive skills at deduction and reasoning. For the greater part of the book this reader was able to deduce the "surprise" that Campion uncovers near the end of the story. As was true in the case of the first Campion book the author appears to have written herself into a corner than required a deus ex machina resolution.Allingham does not play fair with the reader. Indeed at various points in the book three different characters are "holding out" on the reader even though the experiences of one of them is sometimes written in an 'implied omniscience' voice. This reader found the book more interesting for what it said (and did not say) about the class system in England at the time -- in particular in ways in which people were limited in their actions and opportunities by their placement in society. There is no hint in the book that this was unfortunate or unfair for those whose education and freedom were truncated.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mystery Mile by Margery Allingham has all the essential ingredients of a classic British mystery including a quaint village, a vicarage, afternoon tea parties on the lawn at the manor and, of course, a Victorian maze to complete the picture. Then when action is required there is an expedition across the rooftops of London and an adventurous escape over seaside marshes slipping ahead of dangerous tides and trying to avoid quicksand. The main character, Albert Campion, is one of the most intriguing lead characters that I have run across. A gentleman who is exceeding comfortable with any level of society. Exactly what he does is uncertain, but he is always the man of the hour knowing the right thing to do, guarding the innocent and hunting down the guilty.In this story an American judge needs to go into hiding to escape the murderous plans of a mob, called the Sinister Gang. The judge has some inside information on who the leader is and needs time to put the pieces together. The gang of course wants the Judge silenced. Even crossing the Atlantic Ocean is no guarantee that he is safe. Scotland Yard recommends Albert and he in turn sequesters the Judge and his family at the manor house of his friends in the remote village of Mystery Mile. Things immediately start to go wrong and when both the judge and a young woman go missing, Albert Campion finds himself involved in a very nasty and dangerous case. I have now read three Albert Campion books and count myself a fan. Margery Allingham writes with wit and humor and although somewhat dated, this who-dunnit was a fun read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This was the first time I've read a Campion mystery, but I had seen the BBC series, and I was very surprised to find the character so different between the two genres.In the books he's basically a goof-ball, which lends an air of mystery & confusion about him & his skills.Campion is aboard a trans-Atlantic liner being bored by the litany of an obnoxious man of gossip, when he saves a man from electrocution during a magic show. The man Campion saves turns out to be a judge, who has sent many members of a notorious crime ring to jail and has just acquired the clue that will uncover the name of the leader.... In order to keep the judge quiet, many members of his staff have been murdered in the judge's stead.Campion is hired to protect the judge and agrees to help uncover the crime lord by isolating the judge at Mystery Mile, an Estate belonging to friends far out in the countryside.The disappearance of the judge from the Estate's maze, the suicide of the local pastor, & kidnapping of one of the Estate's owners made for an interesting story.I found Campion's actions, sleuthing, & entourage intriguing, although I did figure out who the bad-guy was.I'll be reading another!
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Abridged on 3 CDs and read by Philip Franks. Albert Campion makes the casual acquaintance of an American judge on board a trans-Atlantic liner, by waffling his way into saving the judge from an unfortunate accident. It's only the latest of a string of attempts on the judge's life, and Campion is recruited to help the judge in his quest to stay alive long enough to identify the mastermind behind a ruthless and effective criminal gang. Campion parks Judge Lobbett at a country house, but even that isn't sufficiently remote to keep the judge safe. It's an entertaining enough listen, but the who is so clearly telegraphed that I thought it was a red herring. At the same time, the how is obscured to the point of being irritating. It's really more of a suspense novel than a mystery. Nevertheless, there are some nice set pieces in this novel, and the final confrontation between Campion and the villain is very atmospheric.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Campion joins forces with an American judge and his family to put an end to the violent Simister gang. A clever opening and suspenseful right up until the end.CMB
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Second book in the Albert Campion series and it's interesting seeing his character develop. This is a book you can't take too seriously, but it is well written for it's time. Campion's character takes some getting used to, as do the accents, but all in all a great escape mystery. I will probably read the next in the series, and so far this is one to read in order.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Fine and atmospheric, but I never really like it when the gangs get involved.
Book preview
Mystery Mile - Margery Allingham
1 Among Those Present
‘I’ll bet you fifty dollars, even money,’ said the American who was sitting nearest the door in the opulent lounge of the homeward-bound Elephantine, ‘that that man over there is murdered within a fortnight.’
The Englishman at his side glanced across the sea of chairs at the handsome old man they had been watching. ‘Ten pounds,’ he said. ‘All right, I’ll take you. You’ve no idea what a safe little place England is.’
A slow smile spread over the American’s face. ‘You’ve got no idea what a dangerous old fellow Crowdy Lobbett is,’ he said. ‘If your police are going to look after him they’ll have to keep him in a steel bandbox, and I don’t envy them that job. It’s almost a pity to take your money, though I’m giving you better odds than any Insurance Corporation in the States would offer.’
‘The whole thing sounds fantastic to me,’ said the Englishman. ‘But I’ll meet you at Verrey’s a fortnight today and we’ll make a night of it. That suit you?’
‘The twenty-second,’ said the American, making a note of it in his book. ‘Seems kind of heathen celebrating over the old man’s corpse. He’s a great old boy.’
‘Drinking his health, you mean,’ said the Englishman confidently. ‘Scotland Yard is very spry these days. That reminds me,’ he added cheerfully, ‘I must take you to one of our night clubs.’
On the other side of the ship’s lounge the loquacious Turk who had made himself such a nuisance to his fellow passengers since they put out from New York was chattering to his latest victim.
‘Very courageous of him to come down for the concert,’ he was saying. ‘He’s a marked man, you know. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. Four murders in his household within the past month and each time his escape was a miracle.’
His victim, a pale young man who seemed to be trying to hide behind his enormous spectacles, woke out of the reverie into which he had fallen ever since the talkative Oriental had first tackled him and surveyed his persecutor owlishly. ‘Not that nice old gentleman over there?’ he said. ‘The one with the white hair? Four murders in his house within a month? That ought to be stopped. He’s been told about it, I suppose?’
Since this was the first remark with which the young man had favoured him, the bore jumped to the conclusion that he had inadvertently stumbled on a mental case. It was inconceivable to him that anyone should not have heard of the now famous Misfire Murders, as the Press had starred them, which had filled the New York papers for the past four weeks. The young man spoke.
‘Who is the stormy old petrel?’ he said.
His companion looked at him with some of the delight which a born gossip always feels upon finding an uninformed listener. His heavy red face became animated and he cocked his curious pear-shaped head, which alone betrayed his nationality, alertly on one side.
‘That fine old man, typical of the best type of hard-bitten New Englander,’ he began in a rhetorical whisper, ‘is none other than Judge Crowdy Lobbett. He has been the intended victim of an extraordinary series of crimes. I can’t understand how you’ve missed reading about it all.’
‘Oh, I’ve been away in Nebraska for my health,’ said the young man. ‘He-man stuff, you know,’ he added in his slightly falsetto voice.
He spoke with the utmost gravity, and the old man nodded unsuspectingly and continued.
‘First his secretary, seated in his master’s chair, was shot,’ he said slowly. ‘Then his butler, who was apparently after his master’s Scotch, got poisoned. Then his chauffeur met with a very mysterious accident, and finally a man walking with him down the street got a coping stone on his head.’ He sat back and regarded his companion almost triumphantly. ‘What do you say to that?’ he demanded.
‘Shocking,’ said the young man. ‘Very bad taste on someone’s part. Rotten marksmanship, too,’ he added, after some consideration. ‘I suppose he’s travelling for health now, like me?’
The Turk bent nearer and assumed a more confidential tone.
‘They say,’ he mumbled, in an unsuccessful attempt to keep his voice down, ‘that it was all young Marlowe Lobbett could do to get his father to come to Europe at all. I admire a man like that, a man who’s not afraid of what’s coming to him.’
‘Oh, quite!’ said the young man mildly. ‘The neat piece of modern youthing with the old gentleman is the son you spoke of, I suppose?’
The Turk nodded.
‘That’s right, and the girl sitting on his other side is his daughter. That very black hair gives them a sort of distinction. Funny that the boy should be so big and the girl so small. She takes after her mother, one of the Edwardeses of Tennessee, you know.’
‘When’s the concert going to begin?’
The Turk smiled. He felt he had consummated the acquaintanceship at last.
‘My name is Barber,’ he said. ‘Ali Fergusson Barber – a rather stupid joke of my parents, I have always thought.’
He looked inquiringly at his companion, hoping for a similar exchange of confidence, but he was unrewarded. The young man appeared to have forgotten all about him, and presently to the Oriental’s complete disgust, he drew a small white mouse from the pocket of his jacket and began to fondle it in his hands. Finally he held it out for Mr Barber’s inspection.
‘Rather pretty, don’t you think?’ he said. ‘One of the cabin boys lent it to me. He keeps it to remind him of his brother, Haig. He calls it Haig, after him.’
Mr Barber looked down his immense nose at the little creature, and edged away from it.
The young man said no more, for already a very golden-haired lady with pince-nez was playing the Sixth Hungarian Rhapsody with a certain amount of acid gusto.
Her performance was greeted with only mild enthusiasm, and the Turk overcame his repugnance to the noise sufficiently to lean over and inform the young man that there were several stage stars travelling and no doubt the programme would improve as it went on. For some time, however, his optimism was unrewarded.
At length the fussy, sandy-haired young man who was superintending the performance came forward with the announcement that Satsuma, the world-famous Japanese conjurer, was to perform some of his most celebrated illusions, and the audience’s patience was craved while the stage was made ready for him.
For the first time Mr Barber’s companion seemed to take an intelligent interest in the proceedings and he joined enthusiastically in the applause.
‘I’m potty about conjurers,’ he remarked affably. ‘Haig will like it too, I fancy. I’m most interested to see the effect upon him.’
Mr Barber smiled indulgently.
‘You are making jokes,’ he said naïvely.
The young man shot him a quick glance from behind his spectacles. ‘I do a little conjuring myself,’ he went on confidentially. ‘And I once knew a man who could always produce a few potatoes out of the old topper, or a half bottle of Bass. He once got in some champagne that way, but it wasn’t much of a brand. Hullo! what’s going on up there?’
He peered at the platform with childlike interest.
Several enthusiastic amateurs, aided by an electrician, were engaged in setting up the magician’s apparatus on the small stage. The piano had to be moved to make way for the great ‘disappearing’ cabinet, and the audience watched curiously while the cables were connected and the various gaily-coloured cupboards and boxes were set in position.
The magician himself was directing operations from behind a screen, and at length, when the last scene-shifter had departed, he came forward and bowed ceremoniously.
He was tall for a Japanese, and dark-skinned, with a clever face much too small for him.
Mr Barber nudged the young man at his side.
‘Old Lobbett doesn’t let his troubles damp his interest, does he?’ he rumbled, as he glanced across the room to where the man who had been the subject of so much speculation sat forward in his chair. His keenness and excitement were almost childlike, and after a moment or two, dissatisfied with his view of the stage, he left his seat and walked up to the front row, where he stood watching. Mr Barber’s companion made no comment. He appeared to be engrossed in his small pet mouse, which he held up, apparently with the idea of allowing the little animal to watch the performance.
The magician began with one or two sleight-of-hand tricks, presenting each illusion with a topical patter.
‘Very clever. Very clever,’ murmured Mr Barber in his stentorian undertone. ‘They say those tricks are handed down from generation to generation. I think it’s all done with mirrors myself.’
His acquaintance did not reply. He was sitting bolt upright, staring at the stage through his heavy glasses.
Satsuma produced ducks, goldfish, pigeons, and even a couple of Japanese ladies, with amazing dexterity, and the distressing Mr Barber beat his fat hands together delightedly, while far across the room old Lobbett also was clearly enchanted.
Eventually the magician came forward to the front of the tiny stage and made the announcement which always preceded his most famous trick.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘it has only been by the kind co-operation of the electrical staff on board that I am now able to show you this most remarkable trick – the greatest I have ever performed.’
He stepped back a pace or two and tapped the huge disappearing cabinet which had taken up the greater part of the stage during his entire act. He touched a button hidden in the moulding, and immediately the cabinet was illuminated until it glowed all over in a series of diagonal designs of light.
The Japanese beamed upon his audience.
‘By the aid of this cabinet,’ he said, ‘I will make to disappear not just one of my assistants, but any one of you who will come up and help me.’ He paused to let his full meaning sink in upon his audience. ‘I will make them to disappear and to reappear,’ he went on. ‘And if, after the experience, any one of them can explain how the miracle was performed, then’ – with a great gesture of solemnity – ‘I throw myself into the sea.’
He waited until the polite laughter had subsided, and then went on briskly.
‘Who will come first? You, sir, you?’ he added, pointing out Mr Barber, who was by far the most conspicuous person before him.
The Turk shook his head and laughed.
‘Ah! no, my boy. No. I am too old for these adventures.’
The Japanese smiled and passed on. The pale young man in the spectacles jumped up, however.
‘I’ll disappear,’ he said, in his somewhat foolish voice. ‘I think Haig would like to,’ he murmured to the Oriental by way of explanation.
He went forward eagerly, but paused, as there was some commotion across the room. Judge Lobbett, in spite of his son’s obvious disapproval, was already halfway up the steps to the stage. He also paused as the young man appeared, and the two men stood irresolute until the magician, coming forward, beckoned them both on to the stage.
‘One after the other,’ he said easily. ‘The first to come, the first to be served.’
He helped the judge up as he spoke, and the pale young man leaped up beside them.
‘I say,’ he said nervously, ‘would you mind if my pet went first?’
He held up the white mouse as he spoke, while the audience, thinking it was some intentional comic relief, tittered complacently.
Satsuma smiled also, but his English was not equal to the situation, and, ignoring the young man, he led Judge Lobbett over to the cabinet.
‘Haig,’ announced the foolish-looking young man in a loud voice, ‘will be more than disappointed if he’s not allowed to go first. This is his birthday and he’s been promised the best and the first of everything. Surely, sir,’ he went on, turning to the old man, ‘you wouldn’t deprive my young friend of his birthday thrill?’
Judge Lobbett contented himself by regarding the young man with a slow cold smile for some seconds, but the other appeared not in the least abashed.
Meanwhile, with a flourish from the orchestra, Satsuma touched the cabinet with his wand and the doors swung open, disclosing a safe-like metal-lined compartment whose grilled sides shone in the brilliant light.
‘Now, ladies and gentlemen,’ said the magician, turning to his audience, ‘I shall invite this gentleman’ – he indicated the older man – ‘to step in here. Then I shall close these doors. When I open them again he will be gone. You shall search the whole ship, ladies and gentlemen, the stage, under the stage – you shall not find him. Then I will shut the doors once more. Once more they will fly open, and this gentleman shall be back again as you see him now. Moreover, he will not be able to tell you where he has been hiding. Now, sir, if you please.’
‘What?’ said the irrepressible young man, darting forward, consternation in his pale eyes. ‘Can’t Haig go first? Are you going to disappoint him after all?’
The audience was becoming restive, and Lobbett turned upon the importunate one, mildly annoyed.
‘I don’t know who you are, sir,’ he said, in a low tone, ‘but you’re making a darn nuisance of yourself. I’m genuinely interested in this experiment, and I think everyone else is. Go and play with your mouse on deck, sir.’
On the last word he turned and stepped towards the cabinet, the doors of which stood open to receive him. The man who, by this time, was regarded by everyone in the room as a source of embarrassment, seemed suddenly to lose all sense of decorum.
With an angry exclamation he elbowed the unsuspecting old man out of the way, and before the magician could stop him deliberately dropped the small white mouse upon the glittering floor of the cabinet.
Then he stepped back sharply.
There was a tiny hiss, only just loud enough to be heard among the audience: a sickening, terrifying sound.
For a moment everyone in the lounge held his breath. With a convulsive movement the mouse crumpled up on the polished steel grille, where it slowly blackened and shrivelled before their eyes.
There was an instant of complete stupefaction.
The significance of this extraordinary incident dawned slowly. The men upon the platform to whom the thing had been so near stiffened with horror as the explanation occurred to them.
Marlowe Lobbett was the first to move. He sprang on to the platform by his father’s side and stood with him looking down at the charred spot on the cabinet floor.
It was at this moment that the pale young man with the spectacles, apparently grasping the situation for the first time, let out a howl of mingled grief and astonishment.
‘Oh! my poor Haig! What has happened to him? What has happened to him?’ He bent forward to peer down into the cabinet.
‘Look out, you fool!’ Judge Lobbett’s voice was unrecognizable as he caught the incautious young man by his collar and jerked him backwards. ‘Can’t you see!’ His voice rose high and uncontrolled. ‘That cabinet is live! Your pet has been electrocuted!’
The words startled everyone.
An excited murmur followed a momentary silence. Then a woman screamed.
Concert officials and ship’s officers hurried on to the platform. The noise became greater, and a startled, bewildered crowd swept up to the platform end of the room.
Judge Lobbett and his tall son were surrounded by an excited group of officials.
Satsuma chattered wildly in his own tongue.
The pale young man with the spectacles appeared to be on the verge of fainting with horror. Even the complacent Mr Barber was shaken out of his habitual affability. His heavy jaws sagged, his greasy eyes grew blank with astonishment.
All the time the cabinet remained glowing with a now evil radiance, bizarre and horrible, a toy that had become a thing of terror.
The arrival of the chief engineer roused the general stupor. He was a lank Belfast Irishman, yellow-haired, lantern-jawed, and deaf as a post. He gave his orders in the hollow bellow of a deaf man and soon reduced the affair to almost a commonplace.
‘McPherson, just clear the lounge, will you? I don’t want anyone to remain but those intimately concerned. There’s been a small accident here in the temporary fittings,’ he explained soothingly to the bewildered crowd which was being gently but firmly persuaded out of the lounge by an energetic young Scotsman and his assistants.
‘There’s something very wrong with the insulation of your cupboard,’ he went on, addressing the Japanese severely. ‘It’s evidently a very dangerous thing. Have you not had trouble with it before?’
Satsuma protested violently, but his birdlike twittering English would have been unintelligible to the engineer even had he been able to hear it.
Meanwhile a small army of mechanics was at work. The chief entered into an incomprehensible technical discussion with them, and their growing astonishment and consternation told more plainly than anything else could have done the terrible tragedy that had only just been averted by the timely sacrifice of the unfortunate Haig.
It was impossible not to be sorry for the Japanese. There could be no doubt of the sincerity of his wretchedness. He hovered round the electricians, half terrified of the consequences of what had happened and half fearful for the safety of his precious apparatus.
Marlowe Lobbett, whose patience had been slowly ebbing, stepped up to the chief and shouted in his ear.
‘I don’t know if you’ve heard,’ he began, ‘but back in New York there have been several unsuccessful attempts upon my father’s life. This affair looks very like another. I should be very glad if you could make certain where the responsibility lies.’
The chief turned upon him.
‘My dear sir,’ he said, ‘there’s no question of responsibility. The whole thing’s an extraordinary coincidence. You see that cable on the floor there?’ He pointed to the exposed part of a cable resting upon the parquet floor of the platform. ‘If, in shifting the piano, the cabinet hadn’t been moved a little so that the one place where the insulation had worn off the cabinet made a connection with it, the affair could never have happened. At the same time, if it hadn’t been for the second purely accidental short, the other contact could not have been made.’ He indicated a dark stain on the polished grille of the cabinet. ‘But,’ he went on, fixing the young American with a vivid blue eye, ‘you’re not suggesting that someone fixed the whole thing up on the very slender chance of getting your father in there, are you?’ The chief was considerably more puzzled than he dared to admit. But since no harm had been done he was not anxious to go into the matter too thoroughly for the ship’s sake.
Old Judge Lobbett laid his hand on his son’s arm.
‘This isn’t quite the time to discuss this, my boy,’ he said. ‘Someone knew I couldn’t resist a conjuror. But I don’t think we’ll discuss it here.’
He glanced round as he spoke, and the chief, following the direction of his eyes, suddenly caught sight of the pale young man with the horn-rimmed spectacles who was still standing foolishly by the dismantled cabinet. The officer frowned.
‘I thought I gave orders for the lounge to be cleared,’ he said. ‘May I ask, sir, what you’ve got to do with this affair?’
The young man started and coloured uncomfortably.
‘Well, it was my mouse,’ he said.
It was some time before the chief could be made to understand what he was saying, but when at last he did he was hardly sympathetic.
‘All the same, I think we can manage without you,’ he said bluntly.
The dismissal was unmistakable, and the pale young man smiled nervously and apologized with a certain amount of confusion. Then he crept off the platform like his own mouse, and had almost reached the door before young Marlowe Lobbett overtook him.
The young American had left his father and sister on the platform and came up eagerly. His dark-skinned face and piercing eyes gave him almost a fierce expression, and the pale young man in the spectacles had an impression of someone abounding in energy that was not solely physical.
‘I’d like to thank you,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘And,’ he added bluntly, ‘I’d like to talk to you. I’m greatly indebted to