William Weddall was eccentric even in Ludovic Traver’s wide experience. There was about him an aura of secrecy and subterfuge at odds with the quiet atmosphere of his estate. Hinchbrook Hall, show-place for his antiques and paintings. He had sent Travers to Paris on the seemingly pointless errand of mailing a letter. And Travers later saw him deliberately miss a boat.
Then William Weddall plunged from a window to his death. A running man was seen leaving Hinchbrook Hall after the fatal accident, a man identifiable only by the scar on his chin. Weddall’s American chauffeur, Sam, asked Travers to investigate. It was Sam’s guess that Weddall was pushed. Suave and urbane, with a connoisseur’s eye for antiques, Travers stepped in.
An unwholesome nephew, an ambitious housekeeper, faked-antique swindles in a Bohemian underworld—these are the elements that combine to give Christopher Bush’s 52nd mystery an electric atmosphere of suspense.
The Case of the Running Man was originally published in 1958. This new edition features an introduction by crime fiction historian Curtis Evans.
Christopher Bush was educated in the local school. He then won a scholarship to Thetford Grammar, and went on to study modern languages at King's College London, after which he worked as a school teacher.
He participated in both world wars.
He was a prolific writer of detective novels, wrote three autobiographical novels and nine books about Breckland life using the nom-de-plume Michael Home.
I found this 1958 outing for Ludovic Travers a bit run-of-the-mill, another alibi busting case which could not be solved on the evidence presented to the reader.
Most GAD fans will spot the perpetrator of the two murders but will be puzzled by the alibi for the first and by the timing of the second. The solutions are really pretty weak.
There is some interest in the depicting of the world of paintings, antiques and questions of fakery- at times this felt rather like ER Punshon-and in the portrayal of Sam,the first victim’s black American chauffeur and confidante, but otherwise it was all flattish and unexciting.
Travers ambles through it all, playing the dilettante rather than the working private eye, concealing evidence from Inspector Jewle and generally being rather slyly manipulative.
Art, deception and alibis all converge in this entertaining outing for Travers. Personally, I had cottoned on to the guilty party quite early, not because of any poor writing on the author's part but simply due to the fact these things sometimes have a way of announcing themselves when you've read enough detective stories. Anyway, even if I did work out what was happening pretty fast, it made the book itself no less enjoyable.