By Margery Allingham
The Black Dudley is an old, distant mansion inhabited through recluse, Colonel Combe, yet owned by means of Waytt Petrie, a tender educational who comes to a decision to restore his estate with a weekend social gathering to which he invitations his neighbors and co-workers. one of the visitors is George Abbershaw, a popular health practitioner and pathologist who's sometimes summoned through Scotland backyard to aid with consulting mysterious deaths. Abbershaw hopes that the leisurely weekend at Black Dudley can help him to get familiar with red-haired Meggie Oliphant whom he quietly admires. Little does he suspect that in its place he'll be desirous about a sequence of notable and unsafe incidents which resolve one after the other within the gloomy mansion and break up the party.
It all starts off with a doubtless blameless ritual-game, performed in Black Dudley for generations, within which a jewelled dagger is handed among the visitors within the darkness. The younger viewers are intrigued and wanting to play, but if the lighting are restored it turns into obvious that Colonel Combe has fallen sick. within the commotion of supporting the invalid gentleman to his bed room the dagger disappears and the Colonel is quickly mentioned lifeless. even though Colonel's closest buddies declare that he suffered from a vulnerable middle for a few years, Abbershaw starts to suspect that there's extra to his loss of life. quickly the site visitors appreciate that the petrol has been tired from each motor vehicle and the celebration is imprisoned in the manor of Black Dudley with a assassin between them.
Luckily for Abbershaw, one of the site visitors is Albert Campion – a garrulous and affable party-crasher with an outstanding knack for fixing mysteries and interrogating suspects. The Crime at Black Dudley, first released in 1929, is the 1st novel which introduces Margery Allingham's amiable sleuth – Albert Campion.
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Additional resources for The Crime at Black Dudley (Albert Campion, Book 1)
And if she knew Sonny Boy 44 CHARLES DEEMER / DEAD BODY IN A SMALL ROOM hadn’t cut the hole in the fence, did she also know who had? Lavinia provided more questions than answers. “A penny for your thoughts,” said Sally, sliding onto the barstool beside me. She was wearing jeans, a red western shirt and cowboy boots. My sister the cop looked like someone who’d have no trouble wrestling a steer to the ground. ” “You certainly seemed deep in thought. ” I was changing the subject without her knowing it.
On I-80 East on their way home, they stopped late in the afternoon in Sogobia to find a motel. When they saw the large sign at the edge of town advertising The Black Cat B&B, they decided to check it out. They still felt like celebrating, and a bed-andbreakfast would be more festive than a motel. They were surprised to find that The Black Cat B&B was surrounded by a high chain-link fence with a security gate at the entrance. But it looked ideal: a large Victorian building on a sprawling lot within walking distance of the Sogobia River, surrounded by shade trees to temper the heat coming off the Nevada desert.
He’s only the screenwriter, Sally. ” 47 CHARLES DEEMER / DEAD BODY IN A SMALL ROOM 5 I’d brought my Remington portable typewriter with me from Hollywood. It was still in its case in the closet. On Thursday morning I made a gigantic gesture toward starting a new future and took it out, setting it up on one end of the small table off the kitchen. For a long time I sat in front of it, as if trying to get used to the idea that this was my new writing space instead of the office I’d rented at Columbia, that I could work at home and write books and be my own boss.