The introduction to this anthology gives a brief look at the ‘long and dazzling history’ of ‘Scottish crime fiction’, with an early example being mentioned as James Hogg’s The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824). Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886) is also commented on, as reflecting ‘the ambiguity that lies at the heart of much of the finest Scottish literature.’ In addition, true crime is incorporated into the introduction, in particular the Ardlamont case, which Arthur Conan Doyle’s mentor, Dr Joseph Bell gave evidence at. This case went on to inspire mysteries such as J. J. Connington’s The Ha-Ha Case (1934). Finally, the introduction considers the question of what ‘about Scotland that gives rise to so much good crime writing?’
Story No. 1: ‘Markheim’ (1885) by Robert Louis Stevenson
This story was ‘first published in The Broken Shaft, as part of Unwin’s Christmas Annual, in 1885.’ I remembered enjoying The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, so I was optimistic about this one.
Markheim, the eponymous protagonist, visits a pawnbroker on Christmas day. The pawnbroker wonders if Markheim has another item to sell from his uncle’s cabinet. However, that is not the case, as Markheim claims he is there to buy a Christmas present for the rich woman he hopes to marry and who he is meeting for dinner later. At this point I would say reader suspicion begins to turn towards Markheim, who freaks out for no reason, simply because the pawnbroker suggests a hand glass as the gift. Not long after this, Markheim murders the pawnbroker, and it is not immediately obvious why he would want to do this.
The older style of this story is evident in its belaboured descriptions of atmosphere, particularly since Markheim somewhat mentally disintegrates, post-murder, when he believes there is someone else on the property. The nod to James Hogg’s earlier book is visible in the second half of the story when Markheim says the following:
“I supposed you were intelligent. I thought – since you exist -you would prove a reader of the heart. And yet you would propose to judge me by my acts! Think of it; my acts! I was born and I have lived in a land of giants; giants have dragged me by the wrists since I was born out of my mother – the giants of circumstance. And you would judge me by my acts! But can you not look within? Can you not understand that evil is hateful to me? can you not see within me the clear writing of conscience, never blurred by any wilful sophistry, although too often disregarded? Can you not read me for a thing that surely must be common as humanity – the unwilling sinner?”
Despite such impassioned speeches, I have to say I did not find Markheim a sympathetic character. I did wonder if Stevenson was riffing on some of the ideas/moral themes of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (1843), although perhaps approaching them from a different and maybe even a fatalistic angle: “Then […] content yourself with what you are, for you will never change; and the words of your part on this stage are irrevocably written down.” Nevertheless, I found the ending to be rather flat and as I have said previously the writing style made this tale drag.
Story No. 2: ‘The Field Bazaar’ (1896) by Arthur Conan Doyle
Doyle wrote this story ‘to help raise money for sports facilities for the students of Edinburgh University’ and ‘it was published in the Student magazine on 20 November 1896.’ In this story Sherlock Holmes deduces that Dr Watson has been asked to assist in supporting the Edinburgh University Bazaar. Holmes is rather cheeky as you would expect: “You will not, I am sure, be offended if I say that any reputation for sharpness which I may possess has been entirely gained by the admirable foil which you have made for me. Have I not heard of debutantes who have insisted upon plainness in their chaperones?” This is a four-page story and three quarters of it involves Holmes explaining how he knew what was in Dr Watson’s letter. I found this to be pretty dull, with another disappointing ending. There is no crime and to say there is a mystery is stretching the definition of the term somewhat. But it is a Holmes story, which is little known, so I can see why they included it.
Story No. 3: ‘The Edinburgh Mystery’ (1902) by Baroness Orczy
Baroness Orczy not only wrote a detective story set in Edinburgh, but also one in Glasgow, as part of a series of six mysteries which she wrote set in UK cities. This series followed on from a previous set of six mysteries situated in London, which featured her sleuth, the Old Man in the Corner. ‘“The Edinburgh Mystery” featured in the BBC Radio 4 series The Teahouse Detective, starring Bernard Hepton, and was first broadcast in 2000.’
The opening of this story suggests that the Old Man in the Corner and his friend, Polly Burton, a journalist, do not always get on:
“Have you ever felt real sympathy with a criminal or a thief?” he asked her after a while.
“Only once, I think,” she replied, “and then I am not quite sure that the unfortunate woman who did enlist my sympathies was the criminal you make her out to be.”
“You mean the heroine of the York mystery?” he replied blandly. “I know that you tried very hard that time to discredit the only possible version of that mysterious murder, the version which is my own. Now, I am equally sure that you have at the present moment no more notion as to who killed and robbed poor Lady Donaldson in Charlotte Square, Edinburgh, than the police have themselves, and yet you are full prepared to pooh-pooh my arguments, and to disbelieve my version of the mystery. Such is the lady journalist’s mind.”
“If you have some cock-and-bull story to explain that extraordinary case,” she retorted, “of course I shall disbelieve it. Certainly, if you are going to try and enlist my sympathies on behalf of Edith Crawford, I can assure you you won’t succeed.”
The story then goes to share the details of the murder of Lady Donaldson. This woman persuades Edith Crawford to marry her godson, David Graham by saying that she will bestow a lot of money on him. Lady Donaldson is keen to see David married before she becomes a nun. It seems that she felt the odds were against him marrying because of physical disfigurements and mental health difficulties. It is hard to pin it down more precisely, as the narrative simply describes him as ‘half-demented’, which is not terribly helpful (or kind). Yet the wedding never takes place. Lady Donaldson’s valuable diamonds are stolen before the event, and it is not long after that David’s godmother is killed. Polly and the Old Man in the Corner discuss the trial and the case before deciding what they think really happened.
Story No. 4: ‘The Honour of Israel Gow’ (1911) by G.K. Chesterton
This story was first published in the Saturday Evening Post, originally under the title of ‘The Strange Justice’. Martin Edwards includes an interesting comment from Chesterton, in his author introduction, regarding Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which I thought worth sharing:
‘The point of the story is not that a man can cut himself off from his conscience, but that he cannot… The reason is that there can never be equality between the evil and the good. Jekyll and Hyde are not twin brother. They are rather, as one of them truly remarks, like father and son. After all, Jekyll created Hyde; Hyde would never have created Jekyll; he only destroyed Jekyll.’
‘The Honour of Israel Gow’ is a Father Brown mystery and the priest is going to visit his friend Flambeau (now an amateur detective) at Glengyle Castle, as the latter is ‘with another more formal officer investigating the life and death of the late Earl of Glengyle. That mysterious person was the last representative of a race whose valour, insanity, and violent cunning had made them terrible even among the sinister nobility of their nation in the sixteenth century.’ Chesterton is able to provide suitable atmospherics in the opening description to this tale.
The last Earl of Glengyle disappeared one day. He did not travel elsewhere. He still lived at home, but no one ever saw him, except possibly his one servant who was ‘something between a groom and a gardener.’ It is he who is the titular character and it seems he has taken upon himself the role of undertaker when his master dies – or so he claims. There is little for officials to go on, hence Flambeau’s investigation.
Chesterton does a good job of making this case intriguing. At one point Father Brown says to the others:
“But suppose the worst in all this, the most lurid or melodramatic solution you like. Suppose the servant really killed the master, or suppose the master isn’t really dead, or suppose the master is dressed up as the servant, or suppose the servant is buried for the master; invent what Wilkie Collins’ tragedy you like, and you still have not explained a candle without a candlestick, or why an elderly gentleman of good family should habitually spill snuff on the piano. The core of the tale we could imagine; it is the fringes that are mysterious. By no stretch of fancy can the human mind connect together snuff and diamonds and wax and loose clockwork.”
I felt I enjoyed Chesterton’s writing style more this time, in comparison to some of the other stories I have read by him earlier in the year. Father Brown keeps coming up with possible explanations for the unusual physical clues in the case. Yet each time he is trying to show that just because it is possible to come up with theories, it doesn’t mean they are right, which reminded me of Anthony Berkeley’s later mystery The Poisoned Chocolates Case (1929). I also wondered if this story was a send-up of the way detectives can become proud or arrogant when they are able to do a Sherlock Holmes-esque flourish of deduction. There are plenty of surprises in store for the sleuthing trio when they head off to the graveside, just as light is fading. I am not sure this is a mystery which the reader can solve, but I think it is still an enjoyable ride.
Story No. 5: ‘A Medical Crime’ (1920) by J. Storer Clouston
Clouston is a new-to-me author, and this tale was first published in the Sphere. A character named Carrington recounts to a friend the time he was asked to investigate a series of burglaries in Kinbuckie, the provost of the town. Unusual items have been stolen in the thefts, such as bones, a skull and medical books, so it is not surprising that suspicion has centred on the six doctors working in the town. This is a short tale, and I think the reader might be able to anticipate who Carrington sets a trap for.
Story No. 6: ‘Footsteps’ (1926) by Anthony Wynne
Wynne’s story first appeared in Flynn’s Magazine, and it was later ‘collected in Wynne’s Sinners Go Secretly the following year.’ Lord Tarbet invites Dr Eustace Hailey to his West Highland castle, as he keeps hearing footsteps in places where no one else is: ‘The long corridor was absolutely empty and deserted. It was utterly impossible that any human being, no matter how swift-footed, could have escaped from it in so short a space of time.’ The castle also has a ghostly legend attached to it, although the reader does wonder if human agency is trying to drive Lord Tarbet away from the property. But have no fear, as Dr Hailey rapidly explains the footsteps. I would not say the reader is encouraged to figure out the solution themselves, as this part of the solution is told rather than shown. Dr Hailey’s examination of a particular room indicates signs of a crime having taken place there in the past, and it is at this stage that Lord Tarbet disappears. Unfortunately, this story necessitates a lot of telling, and is heavy on backstory, so I found it less interesting to read.
Story No. 7: ‘The White Line’ (1929) by John Ferguson
‘“The white Line” appeared in a 1929 anthology, The World’s 100 Best Detective Stories and was probably published in an unknown magazine at an earlier date.’ It was interesting to learn more about Ferguson’s career in the author introduction. Martin mentions that:
‘He first tried his hand at crime fiction in 1918, with Stealthy Terror, which earned high praise in H. Douglas Thomson’s early history of the genre, Masters of Mystery (1931). Thomson said that Ferguson’s work included towards the sensational, but that he was “one of the most delightful stylists in the genre”. His series detective was the criminologist Francis McNab, London-based but of Scottish origin.’
I have previously encountered McNab in Death of Mr Dodsley (1937), which the British Library reprinted last year. The setting of ‘The White Line’ is an ocean liner which McNab is travelling on. Also on board is Sally Silver, an American heiress, whose father showers plenty of money and presents on her, including a famous Vernese necklace. She has two men competing for her affections, and the other passengers on the boat begin betting on which man she will pick. Naturally the necklace gets stolen and one of these admirers comes heavily under suspicion. McNab becomes more involved, as like in one of the Miss Marple mysteries, the thief tries to use McNab as a reliable witness to what is really a falsehood. This is an amusing tale, particularly with the inclusion of Mrs Westmacott, who has some fun conversations with McNab. However, I would not say there is much to solve.
Story No. 8: ‘The Body of Sir Henry’ (1929) by Augustus Muir
It has been a number of years since I have read anything by Muir, the one and only time being The House of Lies (1932), which I reviewed back in 2016. ‘This story, set in the Scottish border country, first appeared in Detective Fiction Weekly on 13 April 1929.’ Augustus Muir was a penname of ‘Charles Augustus Carlow Muir’, and he was born in Canada, ‘to Scottish parents.’ He first began writing thrillers in 1924.
An important officer at Scotland Yard called MacIver tells his friend about a case concerning the beautiful Lucille Vallandri:
“She should have hung; I’m not joking. She missed it by the skin of her teeth. I’ll tell you all about her – and the burning cigarette that cost the life of the man whose mistress she was at the time – no; the facts never came out. he cheated the gallows before they even got him the length of trial; he kept poison ready in his wrist-watch.”
This is a nicely told story as MacIver, as a young policeman, has to figure out if the passenger in a car is dead or alive.
Story No. 9: ‘Madame Ville D’Aubier’ (1930) by Josephine Tey
This story was first published in the English Review, under the penname of Gordon Daviot. The narrator is on a train near the Grampian mountains, and she is remembering an experience she had in France with her husband, which involves an unsociable woman who gives them breakfast. The gaining of this meal and the experience of eating it, is basically the whole plot. Any hint of a crime is mentioned in a newspaper headline at the end of the story. The only reason such a weak story has been included is presumably because it is by a famous author. It barely has a plot and was a dull read indeed.
Story No. 10: ‘The Man on Ben Na Garve’ (1933) by H. H. Bashford
This tale was first published in Strand Magazine and begins with the narrator dining at Joe Torrence’s home. Given everyone’s various professions and due to a recent experience in which one guest, a K. C. tried to discredit the evidence of the narrator, an assistant physician, the company end up discussing the difficulty of getting witnesses to come forward. One guest, a man named Wentworth, who usually works overseas, recalls an experience he had last year in Scotland, when on leave. During this holiday he is bird watching on Ben Na Garve and he notices a hiker and a fisherman. One of these men inevitably dies and Wentworth wonders what he should have done. The ending is ambiguous.
Story No. 11: ‘Before Insulin’ (1936) by J. J. Connington
This story first appeared in the London Evening Standard, and I have previously reviewed it here.
Story No. 12: ‘The Case of the Frugal Cake’ (1955) by Margot Bennett
This tale was first published in the Evening News and on the whole Bennett is an author whose work I have really enjoyed. To date I have read four of her novels: Time to Change Hats (1945), The Widow of Bath (1952), The Man Who Didn’t Fly (1955) and Someone from the Past (1958). Bennett’s 1955 novel remains my favourite. Each of these novels, except the 1945 one, have been reprinted by the British Library. ‘The Case of the Frugal Cake’ is centred on a rich miser called Aunt Ellen, who makes her cousin’s life horrible, by getting her to do all the work. There is the vague hope that she might inherit someday, until another relative arrives on the scene. Ellen soon bites the dust, but who did the deed? I felt this story had a nice sting in its tale. The plotting and the prose are tight, and the story is just the right length.
Story No. 13: ‘Thursday’s Child’ (1959) by Cyril Hare
‘Thursday’s Child’ ‘is one of a group of six’ stories ‘that Michael Gilbert included in the posthumous collection Best Detective Stories of Cyril Hare (1959).’ I read this collection pre-blog, and I couldn’t remember it at all. The story sees a Mr Wilkinson being taken out to Cara Island. The opening scene has some nice touches:
“Cara!” he repeated. “A beautiful place, and a beautiful name.”
“It’s the Gaelic word for a corpse.”
Mr Wilkinson looked again. Seen against the light, the island did resemble a human body, laid out upon its back. He could distinguish the shrouded outline of a head, a waisted trunk, a pair of stiff, upturned feet… He shivered. It was getting distinctly chilly down by the shore.
I like this passage as it demonstrates how big an effect you can create with a few words, and I appreciated how the narrative avoids didactically spelling out what Mr Wilkinson is feeling. We are allowed to infer it.
Mr Wilkinson has gone to visit a recluse who owns the island named James Filby. Wilkinson hopes to buy the island from him or acquire the mineral rights to it. This is short quick tale, but the ending packs an enjoyable punch and I like how it ties up little details mentioned earlier in the story.
Story No. 14: ‘The Alibi Man’ (1965) by Bill Knox
First featuring in the Edgar Wallace Mystery Magazine, this story sees Manny Davis being held captive somewhere. He is in some kind of cellar, and it is not clear at the start who is holding him and for what reason. The information to answer this query is released by degrees, which I felt was very effective. This style of writing is gritty, but I found the denouement worked very well.
Story No. 15: ‘The Fishermen’ (1970) by Michael Innes
Innes’ tale ‘was first published as “Death of a Fisherman” in Argosy in March 1970, then as “Comedy of Discomfiture” in its outing for Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine in 1971 before appearing in the collection The Appleby File (1975) under the title reprinted here.’
Sir John Appleby, Innes’ series sleuth, is retired by this stage, but he has been invited by playwright, Freddie Vivarini to fish at Dunwinnie. Three others are also invited to join the group in the Scottish Highlands. In the middle of the night, Appleby discovers his host shot in the lambing shed. The other three guests do not treat Appleby with any less suspicion just because he is a retired police officer, and they do not always automatically believe his testimony. I guessed the solution easily enough, which is just as well, as Appleby merrily tampers with and removes evidence. I found Appleby’s behaviour to be quite high handed.
Spoiler mentioned in ROT 13 Code: Gur fbyhgvba vaibyirf gur ivpgvz (jub znqr uvf fhvpvqr ybbx yvxr n zheqre) glvat gur tha gb n ulqebtra onyybba, fb gung bapr vg unf orra sverq vg jvyy sybng hc gur puvzarl (juvpu gur ivpgvz fghpx uvf urnq va) naq njnl sebz gur fprar. Crefbanyyl, V whfg sbhaq guvf irel fvyyl!
Story No. 16: ‘The Running of the Deer’ (1974) by P. M. Hubbard
Hubbard’s tale first appeared in Winter Crimes (6), which was edited by George Hardinge. The opening paragraph to this story tries to be witty and clever, but it runs on too long, so it becomes tiresome. A death occurs at a stag shoot, and the question is: Was it murder? The story is told from the point of view of a man who is asked by a local laird to take part in a shooting team. There is the interesting social detail that lairds have to kill so many hinds, based on a quota given by the Red Deer Commission. Nevertheless, this is a rather obvious story, with too much signalling.
Story No. 17: ‘Hand in Glove’ (1974) by Jennie Melville a.k.a. Gwendoline Butler
This tale was also first published in Winter Crimes (6). The narrator is a widow in her thirties, who owns a tobacco shop with a library. She is having an affair with the provost’s nephew, Mr Macaulay. He always wears gloves, even during intimate moments, which is the first piece of information we are told. In a way this highlights the shift in writing styles, which the 1970s brought and I feel the “affair” aspect of the plot is more noticeably graphic in detail, in comparison to a mystery from the 1930s with an affair subplot. Mr Macaulay’s wife has mental health issues, and it is not too long into the story that she dies, supposedly of heart failure. In the runup to her death Mr Macaulay has a new job which requires him to move. It should improve his social standing, and he wants the narrator, Mrs Lindsay, to return his letters. But she won’t do this, although she is not thinking of blackmailing him. Mrs Lindsay learns in a roundabout way that there were signs on Mrs Macaulay’s body of foul play that were missed and there are more bodies to come. I would not say this is a surprising mystery, although the ending is interesting with its ambiguity.
Rating: 4.25/5
Source: Review Copy (British Library Crime Classics)