The Crime-Book Society No. 10
This is the second of Graeme's books I have read (so far) in the series, but one that does not involve his hero Blackshirt. It's what one might term a 'country house mystery', with most of the action taking place at "The Elms" - a crazy building, of no particular design, of no regular height and no uniformity whatever. A place of nooks and crannies, of large windows, of small windows, of plain-glazed windows, of leaded windows...a casual succession of wisteria, laburnum, and jasmine at varying seasons. Virginia-creeper, of course...it was a lovable house, a mischievous house. And it was the home of the Clavering family, a home in Kew where from the upper windows one could glimpse the Botanical Gardens.
The first chapter sees Maurice Clavering speeding down the Great North Road in his slim sports model Bentley, with his prospective bride, Helen Lowe. They are going to meet Maurice's mother. Welcome pleasantries out of the way, Mrs (no Christian name yet, but we find out why towards the end of the book) Clavering, then drops a bombshell. "Have you told Helen about - about your grandfather, Maurice?...it is an unpleasant story, Helen, now more than thirty years old. It was in the year 1901..." Only when the reader reaches the last chapter, Chapter XXIII, is there a return to the 'present'.
In 1901, another Clavering is making his way home; this time with a brand new bride - Constance, née Strangeways - and this time David and Constance are transported in a brougham pulled by two mares, Bessie and Lassie! Arriving, they meet the other inhabitants of the house: Tom Gibbons, an old retainer and butler, whose shoulders were bowed now; his wife, Ann, a dear old lady in service to the family for over forty years; and their niece, Kitty, not so much a rabbit as a frightened, fragile Dresden-china doll; old Mrs Clavering - so short as almost to be dumpy. She was so round, so white, so pure, so frail, and yet so forceful. Her hair was snow-white, though she was not yet fifty four; Norman Clavering, David's older brother - seemingly more massive, but rather more swarthy, more commanding, and his wife Beatrice - she was strikingly handsome. Her features were firm and well-defined, suggesting a piece of classical Greek statuary; the black-sheep of the family, Frank, who rolls up drunk to the evening meal; the much younger Godfrey, who is blind from birth; and the four boys' father, Maurice Clavering. who has been seriously ill in bed but perhaps improving enough to make a full recovery. In addition there is Nurse Hamilton - very fine nurse...far too pretty to be a dragon, and too young - who is ministering to the old Clavering. Everything appears hunky-dory; wedding presents are given to David and Constance by the family, and off they all go to bed. By now, we have reached page 70.
Then the shock: old Maurice Clavering, far from getting better as was the prognosis, dies that night - having thrown up ghastly green bile on his way out. The family medic, Dr. Finnemore, is summoned. Far from agreeing to hand over a death certificate, he pronounces the dreaded words: he was poisoned.
From then on, it is a case of finger-pointing amongst the Claverings and Gibbons; an unsympathetic involvement of a Chief Inspector Davisson a CID from New Scotland Yard - he was not brilliant but thorough - who questions everyone in turn, without much success; the ghastly proceedings at the Coroner's Court, where a shaking Frank Clavering proceeds to attract very unfavourable attention. It would be to give away too much to provide any more details of the storyline; suffice it to say that one Clavering commits suicide, but not the real murderer, who only confesses as he lies dying from the result of an aeroplane crash. We also find out which is the Mrs Clavering at the beginning of the story. The final few pages put a very different slant on several of the Claverings, particularly the old man Maurice. The title, Unsolved, is accurate because that was the findings of the jury in the Coroner's Court.
The book's strength lies in the psychological study of the Clavering family. As Nurse Hamilton remarks scornfully: they worshipped anybody with the name of Clavering. One would think there was no other family but them worth while on earth. Some critics have argued that the novel is riddled with appalling class prejudice - of the good middle/upper class against the beastly plebs. Yes, there are pretty strong comments about the latter during the Coroner's Court proceedings: the bestial, grinning, lecherous-minded public; and Norman's comments to his mother: the average man and woman is rotten to the core when it is a matter of gossip or scandal...hypocritical, church-going public...if you could see into the souls of people you would least suspect to be rotten, you would find them a stinking morass of vileness. Strong stuff!. However, readers should always be careful to distinguish between an author's own view and those that he puts in the mouths of his characters; and it was, after all, written in the 1930s not in our own very different days.
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