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A Mr. Campion story by Margery Allingham

As subtly conceived a detective short story as you’ve read in a long time, and subtly told by one of the greatmoderns” of the genre... in which you will observe Albert Campion, criminologist, in an oblique way — for the most part, only catching glimpses of him in the wings; yet, despite Campion’s being almost offstage, you will learn more about this gentleman detective than if, as is usual for the protagonist, he were onstage front and center...

“I little thought,” wrote Sir Theo in unaccustomed longhand, while the great desk spread round him and the silence of the magnificent room was intense, “I little thought that towards the close of a long, arduous, and, I think I may say with modesty, not unuseful career, I should hear myself described, albeit sotto voce, by a senior officer of the Criminal Investigation Department as a Pompous Old Ass.”

He hesitated and his pen made little circles in the air above the faint blue lines in the exercise book which Miss Keddey herself had run out to buy for him.

“Pompous old ass.” He wrote it again without capitals. “At the age of fifty-three — hardly a dotage, if certain aspects of the last war are any criterion — such an experience must give any sapient” (crossed out) “farseeing” (crossed out) “honest” (underlined) “man furiously to think.”

He sat back in the beautiful chair which he had inherited from Sir Joseph, the first head of the great firm, read what he had written, and permitted a dismayed expression to flit over his handsome clean-shaven face. He removed his eyeglass and changed it for the pair of bent pince-nez which he kept for reading contracts, and, since the room was deserted and the door locked, spoke aloud:

“No need to be a ruddy fool!” He bent again to write. “I have only one natural gift — my success had been due entirely to hard work — and I may at times have appeared vain of it. Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. But the fact remains, I have noticed and remarked on it time and time again, I never forget a face. My family, Miss Keddey — who has been my secretary for twenty years — my colleagues on the Board, my brother justices on the Bench, the officers with whom — despite my great age! — I was privileged to serve in the Southern Command, everybody who knows me, will confirm that, pompous though I may be, this is my undisputed gift.

“It has shown itself many times. When Robert St. John walked into the Club after thirty years, wearing a great black beard as long as one’s arm, who recognized him before he had satisfied even the wine waiter? And who — but this is unnecessary. My gift is undisputed and the matter I have to consider here is more complex.

“I come now to Nicholas Parish. This young man entered the firm, of which I have the honor to be the Chairman, some few years before the war. I knew his father and did not like him, but it is typical of me that a circumstance of that sort is more likely to predispose me in favor of a youngster than to detract. Ass though I am, I try to be fair.

“Young Parish is handsome, flashy — by my aged standards — and, according to my wife, who met him once in this office, dangerous, whatever that may mean.

“From the start he showed force which I admired, an unconventional streak which was all very well since he had the wit to control it, and a genius for pushing a job through to its conclusion — the trait which made me like him. At one time he was in charge of our new Psychological department.

“During the period when I was the ‘unfit’ amateur colonel in an army department of ‘unfit’ amateurs, stationed in a sector of the South Coast which, by the grace of God, was never attacked (Ass perhaps, but not Fool, Mr. Superintendent), I found him a most efficient major. It would hardly be true to describe us as wartime comrades, for I am an old hand in the service of this firm and I have no illusions regarding friendships between the head of such a concern and the men who must ever, to their lives’ end, remain subordinates. But we got on very smoothly. I think I may say that. Very smoothly indeed.

“After the war we returned to our respective desks. In a short time his desk became a little larger. Mine remained as it is — as a matter of fact, so Sharman of the Bank was telling me (his hobby is irrelevant figures) — the largest, save one, in the world.

“Our association, Parish’s and mine, was never social. Theobald Park is in the country and when my wife makes what small effort she can to entertain in these times, the names of the junior members of my staff are not added to her secretary’s list. However, we lunched together on occasion and, while he introduced me to the amusing if frivolous Wardrobe, I have taken him to the Club. In fact, I believe he is on the waiting list so that, should he live a hundred years, poor fellow, his name may well come up before the Committee before he dies.

“That is how matters stood on the twenty-third of October last, the date which the Superintendent finds of such absorbing and recurrent interest. It was the night of our regimented dinner. I was to speak and I had, I confess, taken Parish’s opinion on the draft of the few words I intended to say. He was very helpful; I can see him now with that flicker in his dark eyes as some little joke of mine touched him.

“We were the only two senior officers from this firm attending and it seemed natural that we should go together. As I told the Superintendent and that odd, evasive fellow, Campion, who came with him on the third occasion, I have no idea who suggested it. My impression is that it was so obvious that it needed no suggestion. Frankly, I cannot envisage Parish suggesting a course of action to me; I am the natural leader in any decision, great or small. The only faintly unusual feature of our excursion was that I offered to pick him up at his home in Morter Street midway between the Club and the Porchester where we were to dine.

“The Superintendent, a squat obstinate man, did his best to get me to say that Parish asked me to fetch him, which would have been absurd. The younger man, Campion (some sort of consultant whose vague pale face I have seen somewhere unexpected, possibly in the bar of the House of Lords), muttered something more sensible about a man not being able to refuse a civility in certain circumstances, but I could not acquiesce. I am, as it were, the Captain of the Ship, and since I went to Morter Street I must have arranged it. I remember that both Parish and I spoke of the difficulties of parking at night and the inadvisability of taking two cars.

“His house is a pleasant, two-story affair, worth every penny of the rent he must pay for it. It is a cottage in London, snug and yet dignified. I noticed the leaded lights and the frilled muslin curtains particularly — with a pretty woman looking out from between them it might all have been on the stage of the old Gaiety. When Nicholas came running out to tell me we had made a slight mistake in the time and still had twenty minutes, I was only too delighted to step in and take a very good dry sherry with him.

“Poor little woman! She rose from the flowered couch which all but smothered her and greeted me like an old friend. In the discreet lighting I like, I saw her small face glowing and her eyes shine. Despite the decrepitude which is so evident to the Superintendent, I felt the warmer for her welcome.

“She held out both hands to me and said, ‘Sir Theo! Do you remember me?’

“Well, of course I did! And I was happy to tell her so. Since this report is, for a special purpose, I may admit that when I felt her hands tremble in mine it gave me a more pleasurable sensation than I have derived from anything of the kind for very many years. I remembered her face, naturally, but not only that. As soon as Parish mentioned Brabbington I was able to tell them when and where I had the pleasure of being introduced to her — at a sports meeting just before I left the army. At that time she was in uniform herself and those heavy costumes do not reveal a woman’s shape in the same way as does an expensive rose-silk gown — they are not designed to. She made even more impression on me at this second meeting, while we chatted in her charming room.