The Noble Duke of York

Oh, The grand old Duke of York,
He had ten thousand men;
He marched them up to the top of the hill,
And he marched them down again.

And when they were up, they were up,
And when they were down, they were down,
And when they were only half-way up,
They were neither up nor down.

— English children’s nursery rhyme

After my disastrous experience reading Louise Penny’s Still Life, I decided to return to the Golden Age of detective fiction: back when good plots were more important than overwriting a story with an obvious conclusion. And what better way to contrast the two experiences than to go to one of the “Humdrums”: authors with such a bad reputation that you’d think they were unable to entertain so much as a drunken fish. But I’ve challenged this point of view many times on my blog, and I will do it again. So I decided to go back to a reliable favourite: Henry Wade.

Henry Wade was the pseudonym of Major Sir Henry Lancelot Aubrey-Fletcher. I’ve said it before, but because his real name is so damn awesome I decided to say it again anyways. He’s perhaps best known for his series character of Inspector Poole, but he also wrote the fantastic inverted mystery novel Heir Presumptive, one of the best books I’ve ever read, regardless of genre. But today I decided to return to Inspector Poole, in Wade’s third book, The Duke of York’s Steps.

Sir Garth Fratten is a wealthy financier with plenty of influence, but of late his heart has been giving him trouble. So his doctor advises him to lighten his workload—after all, the euphemism “heart trouble” is really covering up a thoracic aneurism. Even the slightest shock could prove fatal to Sir Garth. So when a man accidentally barrels into Sir Garth on the Duke of York’s Steps, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sir Garth dies as a result.

But there are some odd things about this accident, and after a while, some brows are raised in high quarters of Scotland Yard. How could the victim have moved such a distance after receiving his fatal shock? Why hasn’t the man responsible come forward? Was this really an unfortunate accident, or a complex conspiracy of murder? Inspector Poole is sent to investigate.

I personally loved The Duke of York’s Steps, and I’d like to take this time to thank Curt Evans for giving me a copy of the book. I’d also like to thank him for his warning about the copy’s dust-jacket—it turns out that there is a major spoiler on the cover! It not only shows you the murderer in action, it shows you what the (devilishly ingenious) murder method is! Shame on you, Harrap’s Shilling Library! If not for the warning, this book would have been spoiled for me!

And I’m so glad it wasn’t spoiled. This is a complex mystery and Inspector Poole’s investigations are very reminiscent of a police procedural. He must investigate every layer of the case, follow up the most unlikely leads. I particularly liked how, when he asks about a gentleman’s alibi at his club, the staff cannot at first remember the date because it was three weeks ago, and only after recalling an unusual circumstance about the day in question can they give any information whatsoever. Poole must also deal with his superiors, such as Chief Inspector Barrod, a man who doesn’t like Poole because he believes he was promoted far too quickly. And Poole isn’t on the case 24/7 like some inhuman detection machine— he takes a weekend off, for instance, and this only does him a world of good when he returns to the case. Plenty of complications arise throughout the investigation, and the way the mystery is slowly unravelled is quite simply marvellous.

And then there’s the characterization—it’s again terrific. Sir Garth’s son Ryland at first seems like your typical ne’er-do-well heir, but he turns out to have some real complexity to his character. It’s buried beneath the surface and comes to light slowly. Similarly, Ryland’s sister, Inez, is your typically cheerful amateur investigator, but she too has her complexity, and although she strives to clear her brother’s name of suspicion, she has moments where she doubts her brother is telling her the whole truth. And Sir Garth himself is not your typical, miserly, hateful victim who is just asking to be killed. He’s a genuinely sympathetic man, who tries to love his children but who finds them rather a handful and who cannot help but worry that one day they will fall into trouble that he will be unable to save them from. Heck, there’s even a romantic interest that certainly would have raised eyebrows in its day!

Oh, and remember how all GAD authors supposedly always indulged in upper-class worship and therefore wouldn’t dare to criticize the wealthy upper class? Take a look at this bit when a wealthy financier is called down to Scotland Yard for questioning:

Sir Hunter knew perfectly well that … he was behaving rather childishly, but he was irritated by an entirely extraneous consideration. He was, in sober truth, jealous of the position of power occupied by Marradine, a man considerably junior to him in the Army, a man, furthermore, who had only served for about five minutes in France and that only in a soft “Q” job. … Sir Hunter would not in the least have objected to being interrogated by a proper detective—he merely objected to Marradine.

Or how about when we are introduced to that financier in question?

He had done well in command of a division in France (or, what was considered the same thing, the division which he commanded had done well) and was now confidently engaging in a campaign in which he would be even more dependent on the skill of those serving under him.

I rest my case.

The Duke of York’s Steps is a great example of Henry Wade’s strengths and comes highly recommended… if you can find a copy, that is! I have no idea why Wade is a forgotten author these days— it is a situation that continually baffles me. Here we have a terrific author who could write characters and create a complex plot. He could wittily criticize the upper class and its shortcomings, although he was a member of the upper class himself. And yet, for no reason I can see, Julian Symons labelled him a Humdrum and people have been mindlessly repeating that ever since. My guess is that Symons never read a single Wade novel and simply wrote the opposite of what Barzun and Taylor wrote in A Catalogue of Crime.