THE SECOND SHOT
Born in 1893, Anthony Berkeley (Anthony Berkeley Cox) was a British crime writer and a leading member of the genre’s Golden Age. Educated at Sherborne School and University College London, Berkeley served in the British army during WWI before becoming a journalist. His first novel, The Layton Court Murders, was published anonymously in 1925. It introduced Roger Sheringham, the amateur detective who features in many of the author’s novels including the classic Poisoned Chocolates Case. In 1930, Berkeley founded the legendary Detection Club in London along with Agatha Christie, Freeman Wills Crofts and other established mystery writers. It was in 1938, under the pseudonym Francis Iles (which Berkeley also used for novels) that he took up work as a book reviewer for John O’London’s Weekly and The Daily Telegraph. He later wrote for The Sunday Times in the mid 1940s, and then for The Guardian from the mid 1950s until 1970.A key figure in the development of crime fiction, he died in 1971.
THE SECOND SHOT
ANTHONY BERKELEY
THE LANGTAIL PRESS
LONDON
This edition published 2010 by
The Langtail Press
www.langtailpress.com
The Second Shot © 1930 Anthony Berkeley
ISBN: 978-1-78002-019-8
THE SECOND SHOT
This is a fictional work and all characters are drawn from the author’s imagination. Any resemblances or similarities to people either living or dead are entirely coincidental.
to a. d. peters
My dear Peters:
What is the future of the detective story? That is a question which should interest you as much as me. To quote the only reviewer of detective fiction whom we who write it can take seriously (because the only one who takes us seriously): ‘As to technique, it appears that there are two directions in which the intelligent novelist is at present trying to develop…: he may make experiments with the telling of his plot, tell it backwards, or sideways, or in bits; or he may try to develop character and atmosphere.’ This, I think, is exactly the case; and having, as a convinced experimentalist, already tried the former alternative,1 I am here making my attempt at the latter.
In my own opinion it is towards this latter that the best of the new detective-writing energies are being directed. I personally am convinced that the days of the old crime puzzle pure and simple, relying entirely upon plot and without any added attractions of character, style, or even humour, are, if not numbered, at any rate in the hands of the auditors; and that the detective story is already in process of developing into the novel with a detective or a crime interest, holding its reader less by mathematical than by psychological ties. The puzzle element will no doubt remain, but it will become a puzzle of character rather than a puzzle of time, place, motive, and opportunity. The question will be, not, ‘Who killed the old man in the bathroom?’ but, ‘What on earth induced X, of all people, to kill the old man in the bathroom?’ I do not mean that the reader need know until after a considerable part of the story has been told that it was X at all (the interest of pure detection will always hold its own); but books will no longer end with the usual bald exposition of the detective in the last chapter. The detective’s solution will only be the prelude to a change of interest; we shall want to know exactly what remarkable combination of circumstances did bring X, of all people, to the decision that nothing short of murder would meet the case. In a word, the detective story must become more sophisticated. There is a complication of emotion, drama, psychology, and adventure behind the most ordinary murder in real life, the possibilities of which for fictional purposes the conventional detective story misses completely.
That by clever technique the reader’s interest can be retained after the murderer’s identity has been disclosed is proved by The Singing Bone collection of stories by Dr Austin Freeman, in which we see first of all the criminal actually at work and follow the detective’s subsequent activities with that knowledge before us; and by Mr A E W Mason’s At the Villa Rose, in which Celia’s inside story of the murder, after its solution by Hanaud and the arrest of Wethermill, occupies no less than a third of the book and yet holds us just as firmly as did the actual process of detection.
Strictly speaking perhaps the book now before you is not a detective story at all. That is, it is the story of a murder rather than the story of the detection of a murder. But so long as the murderer’s identity is not disclosed (at least, not purposely), this only means that the reader-detective has to use his own wits a little more and does not get all his thinking done for him.
Anyhow, detective story or not, I offer the book to you by way of some small acknowledgement of all you have done for me.
AB
1 Circularly, in The Poisoned Chocolates Case.
prologue
From the Daily Courier, Thursday June 9th, 1930.
FATAL ACCIDENT AT HOUSE PARTY
Well Known London Clubman Killed
TRAGIC END TO JOKE
Detective Drama
FROM OUR OWN REPRESENTATIVE
Minton Vale,
Wednesday.
A shocking accident occurred today at Minton Deeps Farm, the residence of Mr John Hillyard, the well known detective-story writer. Mr Hillyard, who is better known in this district as a scientific and up-to-date farmer than as the writer of the series of detective stories centring round Inspector Goodge which enjoys such a wide popularity, was, with Mrs Hillyard, entertaining a small house party at his farm, which included Mr Eric Scott-Davies, a popular and well known man-about-town. I understand that, following a good-natured ‘chipping’ of their host regarding the powers of detective-story writers if put to the stern test of reality, the younger members of the party, including Mr Scott-Davies, had arranged to enact a little drama in which one of their number should pretend to have been murdered by another, and Mr Hillyard was then to follow up the clues that had been laid and discover the pseudo-criminal.
The drama was actually played this afternoon, and Mr Scott-Davies, who was to represent the victim, pretended in realistic manner to have been shot by another of the guests, a Mr Cyril Pinkerton. Several fellow authors had been invited by Mr Hillyard to co-operate with him in unmasking the villain, including Mr Morton Harrogate Bradley, ‘A W Henry’ (Professor Henry Johnson), and the well known novelist, Miss Helen Asche, and these had duly investigated the circumstances of the supposed ‘murder’, during which there was considerable amusement at the antics of the ‘corpse’. After the investigation was over, the whole party returned to the farm, where Mrs Hillyard was awaiting them, for tea. On their way, it is alleged, two shots were heard, at an interval of about five minutes.
As Mr Scott-Davies did not arrive, two of the party went down to the woods to look for him. They found him lying on his face a short distance away from the glade which had been the scene of the pretended ‘murder’. A doctor was summoned as rapidly as possible, but Minton Deeps Farm is a considerable distance from the nearest town, which is Budeford, and some time necessarily elapsed before Dr Samson could arrive. When he did so, he pronounced at once that life had been extinct for about three quarters of an hour. This corresponds roughly with the time that had elapsed since the two shots were heard.
The police had already been notified by Mr Hillyard, and arrived as Dr Samson was concluding his preliminary examination. A careful survey was made of the circumstances, and Dr Samson, proceeding to a more detailed examination, was able to state his opinion that a single bullet had entered Mr Scott-Davies’ back and penetrated directly to his heart. Death must have been practically instantaneous. A .22 rifle was lying on the ground just behind Mr Scott-Davies and slightly to his left, and it is assumed that he must have been dragging it along the ground behind him by the muzzle wh
en the trigger caught in a twig or some similar obstruction, with tragic results. The fact that two shots were heard in the wood instead of only the fatal one lends support to the idea that Mr Scott-Davies was carrying a loaded rifle. He has a great reputation as a sportsman, and I understand that he would nearly always carry a gun of some sort when strolling in the country, on the off-chance of seeing a rabbit or some other suitable target.
The tragedy has, it is needless to say, cast a deep cloud of sorrow not only over the party at Minton Deeps Farm, but over London society in general, where the late Mr Scott-Davies was a well known and popular figure.
I had a short conversation with Mr Cyril Pinkerton, who had enacted the part of ‘murderer’ in the little comedy that preceded the tragedy. ‘It is naturally a great shock to all of us,’ Mr Pinkerton said to me. ‘What we cannot understand is how Mr Scott-Davies can have been guilty of such terrible carelessness. I am no “sportsman” myself (unfortunately the slight astigmatism from which I suffer renders it impossible), but even I know that the first rule when handling loaded firearms is not to drag them along the ground by the muzzle. One can only suppose that in Mr Scott-Davies’ case familiarity bred contempt.
‘For one dreadful moment after I heard of Mr Scott-Davies’ death the thought flashed through my mind that the rifle (a .22 too, by the way) with which I had been supposed to shoot him in our little play must by some unthinkable carelessness have become loaded with ball instead of blank ammunition. It was a positive relief to me to remember how Mr Scott-Davies had amused us all during the subsequent part of the play by his humorous imitation of a ‘dead’ man. His death will leave a gap which will not be easily filled.’
I understand that the police are still proceeding with their investigations at Minton Deeps Farm.
From a report by Superintendent Hancock, of the Devonshire County Police, dated June 10th, 1930:
…so that the theory of accident, though still possible, seems to me almost disposed of.
With reference to the two shots. I questioned Mr John Hillyard further regarding the shot which, as I stated the day before yesterday, he admits to firing himself in order to complicate the play-acting. He is still unable to state whether he fired before or after the other shot, as he did not hear the latter. I have not been able to get any information on this point from anyone else. I have still not been able to trace who fired the other shot, if it was not due to the deceased’s carelessness (see above). I am satisfied that it came from the gun that was lying near the deceased.
With reference to relations between inmates of Minton Deeps Farm and the deceased. I am satisfied that the play-acting was not all playacting. Mr John Hillyard still states that the story they were to act (see my report dated 9.6.1930) was quite imaginary, but I have some reason to believe that a good deal of it is not far from the real truth. I shall be glad to receive the report from London in answer to my request for news of any gossip connecting the deceased with Mrs Sylvia de Ravel, as soon as it comes to hand. I should like to state here that I have not found the inmates of Minton Deeps Farm (with the exception of the servants and outside staff) very helpful. I do not wish to imply that they have hindered or obstructed me in any way, but it is my impression that they are concealing something, either in league or separately.
With reference to Cyril Pinkerton. I have questioned him again today more closely as to his movements in the wood after the first shot was heard, and I do not consider his answers satisfactory. He is unable to account, in my opinion, for spending so much time there. His answers when pressed as to the direction from which the sound of the second shot seemed to come (while he was alone in the wood; see my report of the 8th) were today confused and uncertain. I have obtained more information regarding the quarrel between himself and the deceased, which I am embodying in a separate memorandum attached to this report. Having regard to Mr Pinkerton’s character and the high opinion he appears to have of his own importance, it is my belief that such an incident as the throwing of Mr Pinkerton into the swimming pool (see my report under yesterday’s date) would alone provide ample motive for Mr Pinkerton’s going to extreme measures; added to which there is the rivalry between them concerning Miss Elsa Verity. I should be glad to hear from you whether you agree with my conclusions on this point and whether you have any suggestions to make. In my opinion there is not yet sufficient evidence to justify detaining Mr Pinkerton for inquiries, but I am hopeful of obtaining more shortly.
In the meantime I have a peculiar circumstance to report. Detective Sergeant Berry, whom I had detailed to keep Mr Pinkerton under observation, followed him last evening shortly after 11 p.m., when it had just become dark, to a piece of land on a steep part of the hillside known as ‘the moorland field’, about a quarter of a mile southeast of the house buildings. This field is about two acres in extent and is covered with bracken, gorse, and brambles, and is consequently useless for grazing purposes and is little used. Detective Sergeant Berry, unobserved by Mr Pinkerton, saw the latter bury something in circumstances of secrecy among the roots of a gorse bush. Detective Sergeant Berry waited until Mr Pinkerton had returned to the house and then retrieved the object. It was a flat metal waterproof box containing several sheets of closely written paper. Detective Sergeant Berry reported the discovery to me, and I sent a staff constable with a knowledge of shorthand at 4.30a.m. this morning to take a shorthand transcript of the manuscript. I have had two copies typewritten and attach one to this report. The manuscript is in the nature of an account of the matters preceding the death of the deceased, and I have already found it of great assistance to me in clearing up of several points which had been obscure. I shall of course be careful to check all statements of fact and have already done so with many and found them hitherto quite correct. It will be seen that Mr Pinkerton states his intention of proceeding with this writing, and I shall therefore continue to have transcripts taken of any additions he may make from day to day and attach them to my reports. I have reprimanded Detective Sergeant Berry for carelessness in allowing Mr Pinkerton to observe that his effects had been searched.
I have refused permission for any of the persons at present staying at Minton Deeps Farm to leave the neighbourhood for the time being, and trust you will find this in order.
I have only one other circumstance to report. Mr Pinkerton was observed to be at the telephone for some time this morning, and Detective Sergeant Berry was able to hear that he was endeavouring to ascertain the address of R Sheringham, Esq. This was obtained for him by the post office in Budeford from a copy of the London Telephone Directory, and Mr Pinkerton at once telephoned the following telegram:
Sheringham, Albany, London. Please come if possible Minton Deeps Farm, Minton, Budeford, Devon, in connection with Scott-Davies affair. Am in most awkward position. Was at Fernhurst with you.
CYRIL PINKERTON.
It is therefore clear that Mr Pinkerton has an idea of my suspicions, but this cannot be helped; and if he is the guilty party it is only natural.
A telegram was subsequently telephoned from Budeford to Mr Pinkerton signed ‘Sheringham’ that the sender was arriving this evening. There can be no doubt that this is Mr Roger Sheringham, who has been attached for duty once or twice to Scotland Yard. I shall see him tomorrow and ask if that is the case now, and if not I should be glad to have your instructions as to how you wish me to treat Mr Sheringham and whether I am to regard him as likely to assist our inquiries or the reverse.
I am still confident that it will not be necessary for us to ask help from Scotland Yard in this matter, and hope to have it cleared up within a few days.
I have the honour to be,
Your obedient servant,
JAMES HANCOCK.
Superintendent.
Enclosure: 1 memorandum.
1 transcript of manuscript by Cyril Pinkerton, Esq.
MR PINKERTON’S
MANUSCRIPT
chapter one
I have often thought of writing a detective s
tory.
The authors of these works all seem to me to make the same mistake: their stories are invariably told from the angle of the detached onlooker. This may make for a good puzzle, but it certainly does not make for human interest. And in the art of fiction, even in so low a form of it as the detective story, human interest should to my mind be a sine qua non. It is here, I think, that the writers of detective stories overlook a great opportunity: for however absorbing the detached onlooker’s interest may be (whether in fiction or in real life) in the detection of a crime, there is one person to whom that interest must be far more absorbing, not to say vital, and that person is the criminal himself.
Another error I have noticed on the part of the detective-story authors is that they begin their narratives in almost all cases with the discovery of the crime itself. This is palpably absurd. It is the preceding circumstances which make the crime. Why not, instead of allowing these circumstances to be laboriously brought out in the body of the story, show the puppets in action before the criminal offence instead of merely after it? That, I submit, is not only more fair to the reader (which I understand is one of the main points by which these authors are judged), but is surely more likely to make a better novel.
I had privately determined, then, that one day I would write such a model detective story from the point of view of the criminal himself, showing his hopes and terrors as the process of detection progresses, the painful anxiety with which he would watch to see whether this or that fact, known only to himself, would be laid bare by the trackers on his trail, and his desperate attempts to extricate himself from the closing trap by laying new, false, and exonerating evidence. In the right hands such a book might be made a really outstanding piece of work; and I saw no reason why the hands should not be mine.
The Second Shot Page 1
