The Rat Began to Gnaw the Rope
Page 1
The rat began to gnaw the rope
the rope began to hang the butcher
the butcher began to kill the ox
the ox began to drink the water…
—Mother Goose
Copyright © 1943, 2020 by C. W. Grafton
Introduction and notes © 2020 by Leslie S. Klinger
Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks and Library of Congress
Cover design by Heather Morris/Sourcebooks
Sourcebooks, Poisoned Pen Press, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
Cover image: Eliminate Crime in the Slums Through Housing. Federal Art Project, 1936. Works Projects Administration Poster Collection, Prints & Photographs Division, Library of Congress, LC-DIG-ppmsca-52154.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Poisoned Pen Press, an imprint of Sourcebooks, in association with the Library of Congress
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The Rat Began to Gnaw the Rope was first published in 1943 by Farrar & Rinehart. A notation in the Library of Congress’s first edition copy states it is a “war edition,” meaning the novel’s complete text appears at reduced size to comply with paper conservation orders of the War Production Board during World War II.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file with the publisher.
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Introduction
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About the War
Reading Group Guide
Further Reading
About the Author
Back Cover
This book is for Viv, Ann, and Sue for reasons which they will understand.
Foreword
Crime writing as we know it first appeared in 1841, with the publication of The Murders in the Rue Morgue. Written by American author Edgar Allan Poe, the short story introduced C. Auguste Dupin, the world’s first wholly fictional detective. Other American and British authors had begun working in the genre by the 1860s, and by the 1920s, we had officially entered the Golden Age of Detective Fiction.
Throughout this short history, many authors who paved the way have been lost or forgotten. Library of Congress Crime Classics bring back into print some of the finest American crime writing from the 1860s to the 1960s, showcasing rare and lesser-known titles that represent a range of genres, from “cozies” to police procedurals. With cover designs inspired by images from the Library’s collections, each book in this series includes the original text, as well as a contextual introduction, brief biography of the author, notes, recommendations for further reading, and suggested discussion questions. Our hope is for these books to start conversations, inspire further research, and bring obscure works to a new generation of readers.
The Rat Began to Gnaw the Rope chronicles a young lawyer’s dogged pursuit of the truth. Like so many other hard-boiled and noir stories, the action begins when a beautiful young woman saunters into a man’s office with a request for help. As Gil Henry’s investigation of possible stock fraud begins to unravel a wealthy family’s scandalous secrets, it quickly becomes clear that his intrusions are not welcome. The car he is driving is sabotaged, and the resulting accident leaves him bloodied, bruised, and needing a new suit. The battered lawyer presses his investigation in a variety of ill-fitting pants and, in the process, manages to antagonize nearly everyone he meets, including his client. Cornelius Warren Grafton’s amusing mix of noir and hard-boiled detective fiction earned him the 1943 Mary Roberts Rinehart Award.
Early American crime fiction is not only entertaining to read, it also sheds light on the culture of its time. While many of the titles in this series include outmoded language and stereotypes now considered offensive—Gil Henry’s decision to smack his female client in the face, grab her hands, and address her as “little Bopeep” seems unthinkable today—it’s fascinating to read these books and reflect on the evolution of our society’s perceptions of race, gender, ethnicity, and social standing.
The “War Note” Grafton appended to the novel is another reflection of its time. Although World War II does not figure into the plot of the novel—which was published in 1943—it was clearly at the forefront of the mind of the author, who served as a military deception officer in the India-Burma Theater.
More dark secrets and bloody deeds lurk in the massive collections of the Library of Congress. I encourage you to explore these works for yourself, here in Washington, D.C., or online.
—Carla D. Hayden, Librarian of Congress
Introduction
As a writer, Cornelius Warren “Chip” Grafton may be fairly described as overlooked, underappreciated, or even forgotten. If he is remembered at all today, it is as the father of Sue Grafton, best-selling author of 25 mystery novels about her detective Kinsey Millhone and who was named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America in 2009. Only four of his books were published, three of them mysteries. Yet his first book, The Rat Began to Gnaw the Rope,1 can be seen as the first of many to infuse American crime writing with humor.
Sue Grafton testifies that her father loved reading mysteries, and inevitably his library must have included the popular fiction of the day. By the late 1920s, when Chip Grafton was a teen, authors such as Earl Derr Biggers, Ellery Queen, S. S. Van Dine, W. R. Burnett, and Dashiell Hammett had revitalized American crime writing, and police detectives and private investigators appeared regularly in best-sellers. Though the work of Biggers, Queen, and Van Dine was very much in the tradition of the so-called “fair play” mysteries that pervaded British crime writing, writers like
Burnett and Hammett pioneered realism in crime fiction, creating stories about average men and women caught up in crimes.
The 1930s saw American crime writing continue to thrive, with the appearance of new talents like Earl Stanley Gardner, creator of the tough-minded lawyer-protagonist Perry Mason; Rex Stout, author of the Nero Wolfe series; and Zenith Jones Brown, who wrote (as David Frome) English-style murder mysteries for her protagonist Colonel Pinkerton and (as Leslie Ford) American-based crime fiction. Yet the tone of the work of all of these fine writers of the “hard-boiled” mystery school and early noir films like The Maltese Falcon was serious—comedy need not apply.
Grafton had a different idea. His protagonist is not a professional investigator—Gilmore “Gil” Henry is a young lawyer, probably around the same age as Grafton.2 He has no desire to be a detective. Instead, a young female client hires him to look into the value of shares of stock of the Harper Products Company that dominates the nearby town of Harpersville. Dubious that he can help her, only when he finds himself to be a target of violence does he resolve to pursue the investigation.
Henry is in many ways an anti-hero—physically soft, short, “pudgy,” “no great shakes at drinking,” and admittedly unattractive to women. He’s not especially educated in any technical areas—he doesn’t understand accounting or taxes—but he is smart and self-deprecating. And Henry is funny, responding to tense situations with wisecracks and joking references. Above all, he is relentless. Nothing—not bullets, not beatings, not warnings, not even removal from the scene of the crimes—stops him from coming back to the case.
The sins involved in the case are all too common: sex-related scandals, harmful cover-ups, and above all, crimes committed out of hunger for power and greed. Here, in early 1941, the Depression era is clearly over—there are no poor or unemployed in the tale—and Gil Henry moves comfortably among the working-class, the college-educated, and the wealthy. There are also a number of professionals in the case, a class Grafton himself knew well—accountants, stock brokers, doctors, and lawyers—and while a few are trustworthy, several have strayed far from their expected roles as reliable advisers.
The story, set at the dawn of America’s involvement in World War II, depicts an insular world. This is small-town America, with unsophisticated law enforcement, a town dominated by a wealthy family, an abundance of secrets, and an absence of people of color (except for “Negro boys” at the grocery store and hotel, and a “colored waiter” at the hospital). Yet Gil Henry is more urbane than the reader might expect. He reminds us of the larger world of culture and sports with offhand references to popular figures. As an outsider to Harpersville, he is clear-eyed about things that residents have simply taken for granted, whether it is egg-farming or how the McClure family came by its money.
The characterization of women in the tale is emblematic of this time, just before women played such an important role in the war. The principal women are all educated: Ruth McClure and Janet Harper are college graduates, and the other key women characters are a schoolteacher and a nurse. Yet women are largely passive in the story: Mrs. Harper is an invalid, Ruth McClure is helpless to find out the truth, Janet Harper spends her time on sports, the enigmatic Miss Katie takes action only in response to a direct threat, and the others simply watch. The male protagonists have little use for these women other than as objects or means to an end, and even Gil Henry impulsively kisses and later slaps Ruth McClure and kisses Janet Harper without invitation.
The book merits our attention on several levels. First, as in the case of all of the books we’ve selected for inclusion as a Library of Congress Crime Classic, it is a valuable picture of American life at a specific date in our country’s history, with an accurate portrayal of the attitudes and behaviors of the time. Second, it helped shape the future of crime writing, as books like The Rat Began… lightened the mood of crime fiction and enhanced the pleasure of the regular reader. Third, it is a cracking good mystery, with secrets, murders and violence aplenty, a town full of suspects, and a dramatic denouement. So drive on down the road to Harpersville and enjoy the ride!
—Leslie S. Klinger
1 Grafton apparently intended an eight-book series, all with titles from the old English nursery rhyme reproduced elsewhere in this volume, though only two were completed; a partial manuscript of the third volume is owned by his family.
2 The publication of the book in 1943 suggests that it must have been written either just before Grafton left for military service in 1942 or completed during his service. Grafton was thirty-three in 1942. Henry is the youngest name partner in his small firm, only recently joining the partnership, likely making him around thirty.
1
My secretary said that there was a Miss Ruth McClure to see me and I said that she could come on in. The girl who stood in the doorway a moment later was small and lovely but she was obviously very unhappy and looked as if she were not sure she wanted to come in after all.
I stood up because it seemed to be the right thing to do, and then I waited. When my secretary had closed the door, she came over to the desk but before I could offer her a seat, she said without any preliminaries:
“I want you to find out for me how much some stock is worth.”
Ordinarily people tell me who they are and ask me who I am before starting right in to business but she didn’t, so I didn’t. I tried to look interested and said:
“Corporate stock?”
“Yes.”
“Is it listed on an exchange?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” I said, “there oughtn’t to be any trouble about that. Sit down and we’ll find out in ten minutes.”
I reached for the telephone but she made a gesture as if to stop me.
“You don’t understand. I don’t want to know what you can get for it. I want to know what it is worth.”
I was a little puzzled. I sat down and then stood up and held a chair for her. Then I walked around back of the desk again and played with the paperweight. We eyed each other for a moment and then I said:
“Start from the beginning.”
“That is all there is to it. I just wanted to know what some stock is worth.”
I pulled a scratch pad toward me.
“What’s the name of the corporation?”
“Harper Products Company.”
“That’s at Harpersville, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think the value differs from the trading price? It’s a big company and the stock is bought and sold every day. It publishes financial statements and people know about these things.”
She put her pocketbook on the desk.
“My father was killed in an automobile accident ten days ago. He was one of the foremen for Harper Products Company. He had some of the stock and all I know is that he told me several times if anything happened to him I was to hold tight. Once I remember we were driving past the main plant and he pointed up to the big sign and said: ‘Remember this. There is more here than you can see from the outside.’ That’s all I know. I want you to find out what the stock is worth.”
I said: “Any more ideas?”
She picked up her pocketbook again and put it in her lap and snapped the fastening two or three times.
“Only that somebody wants to pay me more than the market quotation.”
“Who?”
“Mr. William Jasper Harper.”
“William Jasper Harper himself?”
“Yes, the old man himself.”
“Why?”
“He says he wants to help me out.”
“You think he’s really got another reason?”
“I don’t know. I just want to find out.”
“He and your father great friends or something?”
“They knew each other. Possibly better than Mr. Harper knew most in the plant, but
then my father had worked there a long time. Nothing unusual as far as I know.”
“Why didn’t you take it?”
“I don’t think William Jasper Harper is a philanthropist and I don’t understand what is going on. I think I ought to know what the stock is worth.”
I started to say: “Yeah, you said that before,” but didn’t. What I said was: “If you aren’t willing to accept the financial statements, there isn’t much you can do unless you want to spend some money and maybe raise some hell if you have to. If you just go asking for information, they will simply hand you the annual statement and there you are.”
She opened her handbag and brought out a checkbook.
“There are a hundred shares and at the time my father first got them I understand they were worth something over a hundred dollars a share. Now it seems the company is not making much with raw materials being pretty high and the stock is quoted at about twenty-three dollars a share. I can’t spend a great deal but I think I could pay you to go to Harpersville and spend a day or two finding out whatever you can. Would that cost very much?”
“Whatever I charged you would probably be more than the results are worth. I’ll be glad to go if you want and do the best I can but my guess is that if the stock is selling for twenty-three dollars, it’s worth just twenty-three dollars. Put away your checkbook. We can decide about a fee later. How much did you say he is offering you for the stock?”
“I didn’t say.”
“Well, how much is he offering you?”
“One hundred and ten dollars a share.”
I don’t know whether my mouth physically dropped open but it certainly did so mentally. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t say anything either. She got up as if the interview were at an end and said:
“Then you will come down. I hope you will come as soon as possible. I’ll write down my address and telephone number in Harpersville and you can get in touch with me if you need me. Shouldn’t I leave you something for expenses?”
“No, it isn’t but twenty-five miles and I’ll drive down. The expenses won’t be a big item.”