The Amazing Test Match Crime

by Adrian Alington

  Joe, interviewed upon the subject, gave a modest and manly account of his part in the affair, which appeared in many papers.

  An enterprising reporter on the staff of the Daily Haywire made a dash for Glebeshire to interview the gallant man’s aged parents, but found them so rude as to be completely unintelligible. Mr. Prestwick, in fact, when approached in breezy journalistic fashion, merely uttered a low brutish snarl and, waving a pitchfork with considerable menace, observed,

  “Thee mün püsh off, läd. Main gürt quick thee mün, bör.”

  A statement which the baffled and somewhat terrified reporter subsequently amplified.

  “Prestwick’s venerable father, whom I found engaged in simple rural tasks, stated,

  “‘My wife and I are proud of our boy’s indomitable pluck. He has always been a courageous lad and we knew that he would never fail in a crisis. From our hearts we say “Well played, Prestwick!”’”

  It was the Morning Scream, which among the welter of sensational events, hit upon yet another headline.

  Mystery Cricketer Who Took Prestwick’s Place?

  “Amidst the unprecedented scenes of confusion and bloodshed which occurred at the Oval yesterday there is one question which has as yet to be answered. Who was the player who took Prestwick’s place as twelfth man? When the gallant Trimmer was carried from the field, someone took his place while the final ball was bowled. It was generally supposed that this was Prestwick, the twelfth man, but at that time Prestwick lay bound and gagged in a deserted cottage on the Loamshire moors. Who was this Mystery Fieldsman who took his place and subsequently vanished? Enquiries among eminent cricketers throw no light upon the mystery …”

  So the sensations followed one another, but gradually the principal feeling of the country became one of wrath that the villains who had engineered this series of outrages upon the national life should escape unscathed. The ominous question began to be asked: WHAT IS THE YARD DOING?

  A great wave of unpopularity almost submerged the Big Six. The Press thundered against them; everywhere honest citizens could be heard deploring the incompetence which had allowed a small band of men to defy a nation. The criminal classes, rising happily to the unique occasion, organized a monster demonstration. It was a heartening sight to see old lags of all ages and sexes marching in procession with banners bearing such slogans as,

  The Big Six Must Go Don’t Trust That Twister Posse the Police is Rotten

  A vast and enthusiastic meeting was addressed by Jim the Basher, Club-foot Arthur and other well-known criminals. A proposal put forward by Nutty Williams, the distinguished “con-man”, that the Metropolitan police should be instantly disbanded was greeted with acclaim.

  In official circles the matter was regarded as grave. The Home Secretary spoke seriously to the Commissioner, who in his turn spoke seriously to the Assistant-Commissioner.

  The Assistant-Commissioner addressed the Big Six.

  “You’ll have to go, boys, if you don’t find out something soon.”

  “We are working at the highest pressure,” said Steady as a Rock Posse glumly. “My dramatic dash to Loamshire would have caught them if they hadn’t had that airplane.”

  “We are relentlessly pursuing every clue,” said Who Dies if England Lives Narkley.

  “All ports are being watched,” said And What is More You’ll be a Man, my Son Darby.

  “That is not good enough,” snapped the Assistant-Commissioner. “The public want someone arrested. And you can’t altogether blame them.”

  “I don’t quite see what we can do if we resign,” muttered Dogged Does It Cordon.

  “You’ll have to learn up a few jokes and become amateur detectives,” replied the Assistant-Commissioner coldly.

  The Big Six shuddered as one man.

  * * *

  But the Big Six were not after all called upon to resign. For almost before the words “Bloodshed” and “Mystery Cricketer” had disappeared from the headlines a new sensation came into being, which distracted public opinion. There arose the fierce conflict of opinion which ultimately passed into Cricket history as the Great Donkey Drop Controversy.

  The controversy began when the Imperian Board of Management decided that the final ball of the match which had bowled Lethbridge was not a legitimate ball at all. It was, they maintained, unlike any ball previously bowled in international cricket. Having decided upon this they immediately sent a cable to the M.C.C.

  “Board considers ball which bowled Lethbridge foul and unsportsmanlike device. Stop. Suggest match should be played again.”

  To which the M.C.C. sent what was generally spoken of as a statesmanlike reply,

  “Nothing in Laws of Cricket forbids use of Donkey Drop. Stop. In any case Board of Management not present and could not possibly have seen it.”

  The Board then cabled,

  “Demand replay of entire match. Stop. Otherwise regret shall refuse to play you again. Stop. Donkey Drops are not cricket.”

  To which the M.C.C. replied in somewhat less statesmanlike fashion,

  “Rubbish.”

  This, as the Press neatly pointed out, was deadlock.

  Opinion all over the country was sharply divided. Letters and articles upon the subject flooded the Press. Lethbridge himself refused to make any comment except that he was still very fit. Truth would say nothing except that the idea of bowling this unusual ball had been put into his head by the now famous Mystery Cricketer, whom he had never seen before or since. Norman Blood in an interview, while refusing to comment upon the identity of the Mystery Cricketer, pointed out very sensibly that the umpire was the only judge of whether a ball was fair or not. It was subsequently revealed, however, that after the first day the places of the umpires had been taken by two well-known secret service men who knew little or nothing about the game. This heightened the general confusion.

  The controversy raged. Everywhere the question was heatedly discussed. Crowds flocked to the cinemas to witness the flight of the historic ball. It was shown in slow motion, a process which took several minutes. Every detail was displayed, the solemn ascent, the interminable descent, the varying expressions on Lethbridge’s face, the final laborious shattering of his wicket. At that climax the packed audiences clapped or booed according to their views upon the Great Donkey Drop Controversy.

  The situation grew more serious. A thunderous article by Mr. Clinton Dimskull, the ex-cabinet minister, appeared in the Evening Flagpost, in which he urged that a Ministry of Cricket be forthwith set up with himself as Minister. In a noble passage he wrote,

  “I shall get back over this crisis. Mark my words. The unthinking may declare that I have tried to cash in over the last three crises and failed, but this time there shall be no faltering. My great powers shall no longer rust in disuse. The nation may not think that it wants me, but it does. I am coming back.”

  The situation became acute. The M.C.C. and the Board of Management ceased cabling each other and remained firm. Once again crowds in Downing Street saw the Colonial Secretary hurrying to confer with the Prime Minister.

  Avoiding such controversial topics as the rival merits of Prestwick and Swerver the two statesmen took counsel. It was decided that a Committee of eminent men should be set up to consider the best way out of the impasse. The Committee met, and after several days of watching the slow-motion ascent and descent of the now celebrated donkey drop and Lethbridge’s final ineffectual swipe, produced their report. It proposed a compromise, namely that an Act of Parliament should instantly be passed, proclaiming the match a draw.

  Parliament was summoned early. A tense and crowded House debated the matter. In the Strangers’ Gallery many distinguished figures were to be seen, including those of Sir Timothy Blood, Q. E. D. Marjoribanks and R. S. V. P. Hatstock.

  The Bill was not passed without much hostile criticism. After the Prime Minister had, in person, outlined its main provisions and stated that if necessary he was ready to face a General Election on this issu
e, the leader of the Opposition in a fighting speech asked amid cheers from his supporters, “Since when has it been the custom for visiting cricket teams to dictate to the mother country?” How, he went on to demand, could our gallant bowlers do themselves justice, unless they felt that they had the weight of the country behind them? He took his stand, he said, punning happily, beside Truth and Truth should prevail. In his peroration he pointed out that the tactics adopted by Truth were roughly those of William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings. Had anyone at that time or since drawn attention to those tactics as unsporting? (An Hon. Member, “William was a Frenchman. French cricket is quite a different game.”)

  The debate continued.

  Mr. Clinton Dimskull brought all his great oratorical powers to the suggestion that a Ministry of Cricket should instantly be formed. The Government, in his opinion, had consistently mishandled the Test Match from the very moment when Blood and Lethbridge tossed. Apart altogether from the burning immediate question of the donkey drop, there had been unusual and unpleasant incidents which had undermined public confidence and which could never have arisen if there had been a Ministry with a strong Minister.

  The setting up of a Ministry was also advocated by Mr. Leek-Thomas, that indomitable and picturesque veteran, who differed only from Mr. Dimskull in proposing that he himself should be appointed Minister.

  “I have,” he declared in a particularly striking passage, “been trying to cash in on a crisis far longer than my right hon. friend, nor is my ignorance of cricket any greater than his. You see before you a venerable, if tiresome old man, who yearns to appear once again in the limelight. I put it to the generosity of the House that my great powers should be utilized in preference to his.”

  The House was genuinely moved by the pathos of this appeal and the veteran was sympathetically applauded, much to the annoyance of Mr. Clinton Dimskull, who was heard to shout aloud the word “Humbug!”.

  Many other speeches were made, both for and against the Bill. Mr. Gripe (Lib. North Wessex) pointed out that a timeless Test Match could not, by its very nature, result in a draw. If the Government were determined to throw away the victory achieved by our gallant men under conditions of unparalleled hardship and even danger, the match must be accounted a tie. Mr. Stockchest (Cons. N. Loamshire) said that when a cricket match was over, it was over. The phrase “it is not cricket” had embedded itself in the national consciousness. What, the hon. member enquired passionately, would become of our national heritage if the results of cricket matches could be altered at will?

  Mr. Gumbridge (Lib.) put forward the suggestion that in future, Test Matches should be played at Geneva under the aegis of the League. This suggestion caused a considerable uproar among hon. members. From the Strangers’ Gallery Sir Timothy was heard to shout wildly that he would rather see the entire House of Commons dead at his feet than that a Test Match should be played on foreign soil. Q. E. D. Marjoribanks was also heard to say that League cricket was already in existence and was ruining the game.

  The uproar having subsided Mr. Titmuss (Lab.) asked if the Government had any information to give the House upon the question of the now famous Mystery Cricketer who was reported to be responsible for the entire donkey drop business.

  Mr. Biter (Lab.) said that the Government would be better employed after the recent Test Match in safeguarding the lives of the nation’s cricketers than in worrying over little points of etiquette.

  Mr. Hunterbotham (Lib.) asked if the Government had considered the effect of the Bill on Truth’s bowling average.

  Sir Herbert Boyling (Cons.) said that he had played cricket for two schools, his university and his county and had never in his long experience encountered a donkey drop.

  Mr. Croak (Soc.) said that if you wanted to win a match, you had to use any means you could. For his part he advocated the use by England’s bowlers of donkey drops, sneaks, grubs or any other kind of ball that seemed likely to get the opposing batsmen out. If the bowler was able to bowl before the batsman was ready, so much the better. (Cries of “Shame” and counter cheers. A voice from the Strangers’ Gallery, “That man is a socialist.”)

  Mrs. Crowhurst (Lab.) drew the attention of the House to the fact that matches were now played between the women of England and Imperia. In her opinion it was a pity that if women could play cricket without all this fuss, men could not do the same. (Ironical laughter.)

  Mr. Sturrocker (Ind.) who was well-known to be the biggest nuisance in either House, enquired, “Would it matter very greatly if there were no further matches between England and Imperia, or indeed any cricket matches at all?”

  Indignant shouts of “Withdraw” greeted this question.

  (An Hon. Member, “It’s only Sturrocker.” Groans and laughter.)

  The Colonial Secretary finally wound up the debate. He categorically denied reports of a Cabinet Split and his own resignation. These he described as malicious inventions. With regard to the recently concluded Test Match, he admitted that there were unsatisfactory features in the situation—the failure to capture the Bad Men, the lack of information regarding the Mystery Cricketer—but he urged hon. members to take a broad view. Supposing in two years’ time when we were due to send a team to Imperia, the Imperians refused to play? Would not hon. members who had voted against the Bill reproach themselves bitterly? Surely it was better to show a little generosity now and regard the offending donkey drop as never having been bowled? He announced that in order to spare any hurt to Truth’s feelings, the Government had arranged with his county to give him a special benefit match next season. (Prolonged Government cheers.)

  It was at a late hour that the House divided, the Government ultimately securing a handsome majority. A Bill was approved, accounting the Oval Test Match a draw, and ordaining that Lethbridge’s score should, by Act of Parliament, go down to history as 65 not out.

  At the conclusion of this long and wearying debate the Prime Minister was returning home, when on the pavement outside the House he encountered a paper boy. It was not often that he found the information displayed by news-bills either novel or encouraging. But this particular one caused him to smile and murmur, in a relieved voice,

  “Thank Heaven for that!”

  The poster said quite boldly, FOOTBALL STARTS AGAIN.

  * * *

  One afternoon, not long after the great Donkey Drop Debate in the House, Sawn-off Carlo and Ralph the Disappointment sat awaiting the coming of the Professor. They sat before the same café where details of the Test Match Crime had been first discussed. All about them moved the same fashionably attired crowd of spies, financiers, film stars, international crooks and others. The same half-heard fragments of conversation floated through the sunlit air.

  “The Minister of the Interior, mon cher comte, dines tonight at my villa. It is unnecessary that he should leave it alive …”

  “Ten million dollars is my final offer, Swindleheim. Otherwise the deal is off…”

  “She’s got the ice with her, I tell you, Pug. We can lay our hands on it tonight.…”

  The two men before the café waited almost in silence, taking no notice of the brilliant crowd. A certain melancholy seemed to sit upon them.

  Said Sawn-off Carlo presently, shifting his gum,

  “I guess, brother, this ball-game crime is not so good. We shan’t see no dough. I guess these International saps are sore the English guys win this game.”

  Ralph the Disappointment shook his head sadly.

  “It was a mad thing to attempt. I knew we should fail.”

  Presently the Professor appeared walking towards them through the gay crowd. He was dressed as on the occasion of their former meeting, a yachting cap was set rakishly on his dome-like forehead. As usual he greeted his colleagues as chance acquaintances. Then having seated himself at their table and made certain that they were not under observation, he furtively handed to each a bulky packet.

  “The proceeds, my friends, of our recent trip to England.�
�

  The two gazed at him in surprise.

  “Gee, Boss!” exclaimed Sawn-off Carlo in delight. “Say, do these International punks hand out the dough okay and hunky-dory?”

  “As you see, Carlo.”

  “Ain’t that swell?”

  “But don’t they realize,” asked Ralph the Disappointment slowly, “that we were defeated, that we failed?”

  The Professor permitted his lips to twitch in a smile.

  “I must admit, my friends,” he said, “that thanks in the first place to Carlo’s stupidity and in the second place to his inadequate marksmanship, I was prepared to regard the affair as that unique thing, a failure upon my part.”

  “Aw, say, Boss,” protested Sawn-off Carlo, “I guess if them military guys hadn’t started shooting us up I’d ’a’ left that Oval plenty full of cadavers.”

  “It seems, however,” the Professor continued, ignoring Sawn-off’s interruption, “that I underrated both the madness of the English and the insane complications of this game of crickets. It appears that after our somewhat hurried departure from the Oval an English sportsman by the name of Truth outwitted the principal native, Lethbridge, by bowling in an illegitimate manner. There is a kind of ball known as a donkey drop, of which I must confess I had not previously heard, since it is not mentioned by Mr. L. E. G. Glance in his monumental work. The delivery of this ball has plunged the British Empire into the utmost confusion. Only urgent action by the English Government, who have declared the match to be a draw, has prevented disaster. My employers, who as I told you represent important International Interests, are greatly delighted at the turn of events and have congratulated me most warmly. The affair may, therefore, despite certain hitches in our arrangements, be said to have concluded in a blaze of success.”