Margery Allingham – Friday 20 May 1904 – Thursday 30 June 1966

Introduction

In addition to Traitor’s Purse (spoiler alert), the only other Margery Allingham novel I’ve read is Pearls Before Swine, which is also an Albert Campion mystery. Even if my literary relationship with her is not substantial, I am quite fond of the mystery and detective genres and enjoyed the two Margery Allingham books I have read. Definitely need to read more of them, but when I’ll find the time is surely one of the mysteries of my life.

Excerpt from Chapter I of Traitor’s Purse

“The muttering was indistinct. It crept down the dark ward, forcing itself upon the man who lay in the patch of light at the far end of the vast room.

It was a pleasant muttering. It made a reassuring undercurrent below the worry, that terrifying anxiety which was thrusting icy fingers deep into his diaphragm.

He tried to concentrate on the muttering. Mercifully it was recognizable. There were two distinct voices and when he could catch them the words meant something. That was good. That was hopeful.

In a little while the words might start connecting and then, please, God, he would learn something and this appalling fear would recede.

From where he lay he could just see a wedge of polished floor, a section of a neat empty bed, and a tall shrouded window, fading into complete darkness at the top where the shaded light over his own head was too faint to reach it. All there were entirely unfamiliar. He was not even sure that he was in a hospital. That was part of the whole situation. He knew what a hospital was; that was comforting. They were large grey buildings, made grimly gay by enormous posters announcing scarifying debts. The recollection of those placards cheered him up. He could still read; he was sure of that. Sometimes one couldn’t. Sometimes on these occasions one could only recognize spoken words. That was an odd piece of information to remember now. His mind was clear enough as far as it went…as far as it went.

He concentrated on the muttering. It was a long way away. They must be just outside the farther door up there in the darkness. The woman was a nurse, of course. The discovery delighted him foolishly. He was getting on. At any moment now other obvious things much occur to him.

He had no idea who the man was, but his ramble was human and friendly. He settled himself to listen.”


Yesterday’s writer – Joy Adamson
Tomorrow’s writer – Harriette Arnow

Source: Allingham, Margery. Traitor’s Purse. Bantam Books, April 1990. ISBN 0-553-23822-1. Excerpt: pages 1-2

Images:

Left: Front cover of my personal copy of Traitor’s Purse
Center: Margery Allingham from the website margeryallingham.org.uk