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378 pages, Hardcover
First published January 29, 2013
”Now from yon black and fun’ral yew,
That bathes the charnel-house with dew,
Methinks I hear a voice begin;
(Ye ravens, cease your croaking din;
Ye tolling clocks, no time resound
O’er the long lake and midnight ground)
It sends a peal of hollow groans,
Thus speaking from among the bones.”
Thomas Parnell
A night-Piece on Death (1721)
“Right, then,” Inspector Hewitt was saying. “Let’s have it.”
I couldn’t help thinking how much progress he had made since we had first met nine months ago, upon which occasion he had sent me to fetch the tea.
There was hope for the man yet.
My heart accelerated.
Dangerous killers on the loose! The words to which every amateur sleuth lives in eternal hope of hearing. Ever since I first heard them spoken on the wireless by Philip Odell in “The Case of the Missing Marbles,” I had longed for someone to say them to me. And now they had. “Dangerous killers on the loose!” I wanted to shake the Inspector’s hand….
My cup of crime runneth over, I thought.