Cold, Lone and Still
Gladys Mitchell
Bradley 64
A 3S digital back-up edition 1.0
click for scan notes and proofing history
Contents
Prologue
1: A Test of Compatibility
2: The Way Continues
3: A Change in the Weather
4: Shelter — at a Price
5: The End of a Holiday
6: A Visit to a Psychiatrist
7: A Reunion
8: Its Aftermath
9: Bull Before the Beaks
10: The Disperser of Dreams
11: Mugdock Wood or Thereabouts
12: Europa and the Bull
13: Suggestions for a Replay
14: Not an Official Enquiry
15: Talking Things Over
16: The Rounding-Up
17: A Motive for Murder
Also by Gladys Mitchell
speedy death • mystery of a butcher’s shop
the longer bodies • the saltmarshmurders
death at the opera • the devil at saxon wall
dead man’s morris • come away death
st peter’s finger • printer’s error
brazen tongue • hangman’s curfew
when last i died • laurels are poison
the worsted viper • sunset over soho
my father sleeps • the rising of the moon
here comes a chopper • death and the maiden
the dancing druids • tom brown’s body
groaning spinney • the devil’s elbow
the echoing strangers • merlin’s furlong
faintley speaking • watson’s choice
twelve horses and the hangman’s noose
the twenty-third man • spotted hemlock
the man who grew tomatoes • say it with flowers
the nodding canaries • my bones will keep
adders on the heath • death of a delft blue
pageant of murder • the croaking raven
skeleton island • three quick and five dead
dance to your daddy • gorydew
lament for leto • a hearse on may day
the murder of busy lizzie • a javelin for jonah
winking at the brim • convent of styx
late, late in the evening • noonday and night
fault in the structure • wraiths and changelings
mingled with venom • nest of vipers
mudflats of the dead • uncoffin’d clay
the whispering knights • the death-cap dancers
here lies gloria mundy • death of a burrowing mole
the greenstone griffins • the crozier pharaohs
Michael Joseph
LONDON
First Published in Great Britain by Michael Joseph Ltd 44 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP
August 1983 Second Impression October 1985
©The executors of the Estate of Gladys Mitchell 1983
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner
ISBN 0 7181 2264 X
Composition by Allset, London
Printed in Great Britain by Hollen Street Press, Slough, and bound by Hunter & Foulis Ltd, Edinburgh
To
The Companions of Margaret Hallahan
with love from the author
Cold, Lone And Still
Prologue
^ »
A week before I married Jane and moved with her into the house I had bought, I was sorting out the last odds and ends in my bachelor flat when I came upon some poems which I must have written to Hera in the early days of our love affair. One of them was only a rough draft, but I do not think I would have altered it much before I sent her a copy. I wonder whether she has kept it? I must have been head over heels in love with her at the time, or I would never have committed myself to praising her in verse. As I read the poems, two thoughts came into my mind. One was the memory of a quotation from an early novel by Aldous Huxley in which he causes a young writer to say, ‘Ah, what genius I had then!’ The other was that I had better tear up the poems. It would never do for dear little freckled Jane to come across them after we were married. She would know that those passionate evocations could never, in this world or the next, apply to her. I suppose I should have known better than to submit to Hera’s rulings about our conduct towards one another on the tour, but I was so besotted with her at the time that I suppose I would have agreed to anything she suggested. I was foolishly, fatally in error. As John Gay has said so rightly:
‘Youth’s the season made for joys;
Love is then our duty.
She alone who that employs
Well deserves her beauty.’
Perhaps Hera did employ it while we were in Scotland, but, if she did, it was with Todd, not with me. She denied that she had done more than hold conversations with him, but I have never believed her. What man, finding a ripe peach nestling in the palm of his hand, would hesitate to gather it? From what I know of him, Todd would have had no scruples, and who shall blame him? Certainly not I.
He may have been an opportunist; I was undoubtedly a fool. The prayer book appears to make no distinction between the sins of commission and those of omission, so, in our different ways, I suppose Todd and I are equally guilty. Anyhow, Nemesis, with whom there is no arguing, has caught up with both of us, although I suppose most people would say that I am luckier than I deserve to be.
1: A Test of Compatibility
« ^ »
Looking back, I think the preparations and the anticipation were by far the best part of the holiday. It was fun to assemble and check the gear, receive confirmation of the bookings and read and re-read the maps and brochures. The shopping was fun, too. We bought nailed boots, new anoraks and sweaters, ash-plants, a compass, electric torches, whistles in case we needed rescuing, a first-aid kit, and the latest make in rucksacks, framed to give the maximum comfort on the march. I mentioned emergency rations, but Hera said that we could stock up nearer the start of the walk.
According to the brochure, the trail could be walked in a week, but we decided upon a fortnight to allow for detours to any places of interest and also to give us time for stop-overs if the weather turned very wet, for even in June it was not to be trusted where we were going.
The walking tour was Hera’s idea, not mine. We had talked over the possibility of living together before we were married, so that we could test our compatibility and all that sort of thing, but she said that it would be ‘a something and a nothing, Comrie. We would know that it was only an experiment and not meant to last long, and we should be on our best behaviour all the time and that wouldn’t be any test at all.’ She went on to point out that a walking tour in hilly and often lonely country, with mishaps occurring daily, weary legs, blistered feet, rain, wind, mist and losing our way, would be the best means of discovering whether a partnership for life would be a viable proposition. ‘If we can get through a fortnight like that without disaster, we can get through the next forty years,’ she said.
‘But supposing the weather stays fine, our boots fit, the scenery is as superb as the brochure promises, the hotels and youth hostels are first-rate and we don’t meet with any mishaps at all?’ I said. She laughed.
‘If heaven smiled to that extent,’ she retorted, ‘I would ditch our engagement and hand you back the ring as soon as the journey ended.’
‘But why?’
‘Call it superstition or anything else you please, but that would be my reaction. Luck of that magnitude comes only from the Devil.’