Kippers, kedgeree, kidneys – what a sturdy sound all these good breakfast dishes had. Not that he wanted any of them this morning. He had slept well, entirely oblivious of the thunderstorms that Edith told him somewhat reproachfully had kept her sleepless all night. Edith was already up, and had ...
Some days even the simplest thing could go wrong, even in the hands of a maître chef. It was symptomatic of the theatre itself. Currents of unease ran through the corridors of the Galaxy – in and out of the dressing rooms, the green room, the carpenter’s shop, the painting room – like sand in an ...
Nine o’clock on a March Sunday morning was no time to be standing on a quayside, even in Cannes. Egbert Rose, with only the contents of a stale croissant inside him, shared his views. A wave of longing for Highbury with the comforting sight of the Sunday roast on the kitchen table, and fatty baco...
Changing its tactics with the gusting wind through the dock, it assaulted his face and mocked his eyes. He was far from happy. ‘We’ve missed the boat, sir.’ There was no glimmer of a smile on Inspector Grey’s face, whether he was conscious of his pun or not. Rose regarded Grey without enthusiasm....
Live ones fortunately. Most of the guests were staying at neighbouring houses but the provision of retiring and temporary dressing rooms for the ball this evening seemed to have converted the house into a scene worthy of Bruegel’s brush. Or perhaps, Auguste thought as he led Egbert to the cubbyho...
Heavy rain the night before had conspired to bespatter his sturdy uniformed legs with mud from the narrow lane that led to Stockbery Towers and that, combined with a consciousness that his method of arrival did not befit a sergeant of the detective force of Kent County Police, did not put him in ...
He was conscious that he should be thinking of the sadness of sudden death, the unpredictability of life, of the virtues of the late Colonel Worthington. In fact his thoughts were occupied exclusively with how the members would react to the exiting of the corpse and the news of the reason for it,...
Then duty whispered in one ear, and her sister conscience confiscated the other. It was Boxing Day, they informed him; the exciting Twelve Days of Christmas, for which he had sole responsibility for the enjoyment of fourteen paying guests in his very first hotel, had barely begun. To superintend ...
It certainly did, and it was not one Auguste found digestible. He shivered, as if a Russian assassin even now stood behind the deep rose-red velvet curtains armed with Webley and poisoned samovar. He sipped his brandy and soda gratefully, as the fire glowed comfortingly in the lamplight. His brai...