In the Shadow of Agatha Christie Read online

  Mrs. George (Elizabeth) Corbett (1846–1930) is a fascinating English writer. Many of her books were written in serial form and are currently unavailable. Initially, Corbett was regarded as a mystery writer, ranked as high as Conan Doyle. Her novels The Missing Note (1881) and Pharisees Unveiled: The Adventures of an Amateur Detective (1889) set this tone, though the latter is more science fiction than mystery, about a doctor who develops an invisibility potion. Today, Corbett is best remembered for her feminist novel New Amazonia: A Foretaste of the Future (1889). However, she also wrote the important crime novel When the Sea Gives Up Its Dead (1894), featuring a young woman, Annie Cory, who is an able amateur detective seeking to clear the reputation of her man. In the course of her detection, she works in disguise, including dressing as a man (in the manner of Doyle’s Irene Adler). This book may well be the first appearance of a female detective written by a woman. Corbett also wrote short stories, and her volume Secrets of a Private Inquiry Office, published in 1890, collects fifteen tales of Bob White, one of the co-owners of the Bell & White Agency; his partner, the narrator, who is an man named Bell (no first name given); and a silent partner whom they term “Jones,” irrelevant to this matter. Corbett wrote additional stories about the agency, but their publication history is confused, and no copies of collections of these stories is extant.

  With the success of writers like Anna Katharine Green in America, L. T. Meade, C. L. Pirkis, the Baroness Orczy, and Mrs. George Corbett in England, and Mary Fortune (albeit anonymously) in Australia, the sluice gates were finally open for women crime writers.

  Women who followed them, such as Mignon Eberhart, Patricia Wentworth, Dorothy Sayers, and of course Agatha Christie would not have thrived without the bold, fearless work of their predecessors, and the genre would be much poorer for their absence. Today, women are an irremovable part of the tapestry of mystery fiction. So, while Agatha Christie may still reign as the “Queen of Crime,” it is important to remember that she did not ascend that throne except on the shoulders of women who came before her, too many of whom have been lost in her shadow.

  —Leslie S. Klinger

  * Sayers herself expressed this view in Omnibus of Crime, though she does mention Anna Katharine Green’s Violet Strange (see p. 247, below) and Baroness Orczy’s Lady Molly (see below, p. 181) in a footnote.

  † The latter book was published anonymously, and based on an erroneous auction catalog, Ellery Queen claimed that the book first appeared in 1861 under the title Experiences of a Lady Detective, its author was “Anonyma,” the author/principal character of a series of shilling shockers, and the 1864 Revelations volume was a sequel. However, Queen later corrected this claim, clarifying that the book was reissued in 1884 with a subtitle of “Experiences of a Lady Detective,” causing the confusion. Most scholars now identify the author as William Stephens (or Stevens) Hayward (1835–1870), who frequently wrote books for the Revelations publisher George Vickers.

  ‡ The critic Stephen Knight has suggested that “Andrew Forrester” is the same “Mrs. Forrester” who wrote a romance novel Fair Women in 1867 and is likely to be a woman who concealed her gender to write in two genres. Crime Fiction 1800–2000: Detection, Death, Diversity (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave MacMillan, 2004). However, in the 2010 edition of his book, now titled Crime Fiction since 1800: Detection, Death, Diversity, Knight seems to have abandoned this suggestion, positing instead that “Andrew Forrester” was two brothers, John and Daniel, who were engaged in investigative work. Knight’s original view is adopted in Watson, Kate, Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860–1880: Fourteen American, British and Australian Authors (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company (2012).

  § Catherine Ross Nickerson goes further, crediting Victor as “the first writer, male or female, to produce full-length detective novels in the United States.” Introduction, The Dead Letter and The Figure Eight by Metta Fuller Victor (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2003).

  ¶ The story first appeared in the anthology Stories and Sketches by Our Best Authors (Boston: Lee and Shepard, 1867).

  # Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860–1880, p. 117.

  ** New York: Walker & Company, 2012, p. 179.

  †† Women Writing Crime Fiction, 1860–1880, p. 184.

  ‡‡ The Dead Witness, p. xxvii.

  IN THE SHADOW OF

  AGATHA

  CHRISTIE

  Catherine Crowe (1800–1876) was an English playwright, author, and poet, who also wrote for children. Her novel Adventures of Susan Hopley; or Circumstantial Evidence, first published in 1841 and later republished with the subtitle “Adventures of a Maid Servant,” is one of the earliest crime novels. Originally published anonymously, it became a highly successful stage play. The titular heroine discovers a murder and skillfully sifts the evidence and discovers the criminal, qualifying her as probably the first female detective. Crowe also wrote many short stories, and her most popular book was Night-Side of Nature (1848), a collection of stories of the supernatural. The following, combining a crime and a revengeful spirit, first appeared in the magazine Household Words for June 22, 1850, without identification of the author.

  THE ADVOCATE’S WEDDING DAY

  CATHERINE CROWE

  Antoine de Chaulieu was the son of a poor gentleman of Normandy, with a long genealogy, a short rent-roll, and a large family. Jacques Rollet was the son of a brewer, who did not know who his grandfather was; but he had a long purse, and only two children. As these youths flourished in the early days of liberty, equality, and fraternity* and were near neighbors, they naturally hated each other. Their enmity commenced at school, where the delicate and refined De Chaulieu, being the only gentilhomme† amongst the scholars, was the favorite of the master (who was a bit of an aristocrat in his heart), although he was about the worst dressed boy in the establishment, and never had a sou to spend; whilst Jacques Rollet, sturdy and rough, with smart clothes and plenty of money, got flogged six days in the week, ostensibly for being stupid and not learning his lessons,—which he did not,—but in reality for constantly quarrelling with and insulting De Chaulieu, who had not strength to cope with him.

  When they left the academy, the feud continued in all its vigor, and was fostered by a thousand little circumstances, arising out of the state of the times, till a separation ensued, in consequence of an aunt of Antoine de Chaulieu’s undertaking the expense of sending him to Paris to study the law, and of maintaining him there during the necessary period.

  With the progress of events came some degree of reaction in favor of birth and nobility; and then Antoine, who had passed for the bar, began to hold up his head, and endeavor to push his fortunes; but fate seemed against him. He felt certain that if he possessed any gift in the world, it was that of eloquence, but he could get no cause to plead; and his aunt dying inopportunely, first his resources failed, and then his health. He had no sooner returned to his home than, to complicate his difficulties completely, he fell in love with Miss Natalie de Bellefonds, who had just returned from Paris, where she had been completing her education. To expatiate on the perfections of Mademoiselle Natalie would be a waste of ink and paper; it is sufficient to say that she really was a very charming girl, with a fortune which, though not large, would have been a most desirable addition to De Chaulieu, who had nothing. Neither was the fair Natalie indisposed to listen to his addresses; but her father could not be expected to countenance the suit of a gentleman, however well-born, who had not a ten-sous piece in the world, and whose prospects were a blank.

  Whilst the ambitious and love-sick barrister was thus pining in unwelcome obscurity, his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet, had been acquiring an undesirable notoriety. There was nothing really bad in Jacques; but having been bred up a democrat, with a hatred of the nobility, he could not easily accommodate his rough humor to treat them with civility when it was no longer safe to insult them. The liberties he allowed himself whenever circumstances brought him into contact with the higher classes of society, had led h
im into many scrapes, out of which his father’s money had in one way or another released him; but that source of safety had now failed. Old Rollet, having been too busy with the affairs of the nation to attend to his business, had died insolvent, leaving his son with nothing but his own wits to help him out of future difficulties; and it was not long before their exercise was called for.

  Claudine Rollet, his sister, who was a very pretty girl, had attracted the attention of Mademoiselle de Bellefonds’s brother, Alphonse; and as he paid her more attention than from such a quarter was agreeable to Jacques, the young men had had more than one quarrel on the subject, on which occasion they had each, characteristically, given vent to their enmity, the one in contemptuous monosyllables, and the other in a volley of insulting words. But Claudine had another lover, more nearly of her own condition of life; this was Claperon, the deputy-governor of the Rouen jail, with whom she had made acquaintance during one or two compulsory visits paid by her brother to that functionary. Claudine, who was a bit of a coquette, though she did not altogether reject his suit, gave him little encouragement, so that, betwixt hopes and fears and doubts and jealousies, poor Claperon led a very uneasy kind of life.

  Affairs had been for some time in this position, when, one fine morning, Alphonse de Bellefonds was not to be found in his chamber when his servant went to call him; neither had his bed been slept in. He had been observed to go out rather late on the previous evening, but whether he had returned nobody could tell. He had not appeared at supper, but that was too ordinary an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm was excited till several hours had elapsed, when inquiries were instituted and a search commenced, which terminated in the discovery of his body, a good deal mangled, lying at the bottom of a pond which had belonged to the old brewery.

  Before any investigation had been made, every person had jumped to the conclusion that the young man had been murdered, and that Jacques Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong presumption in favor of that opinion, which further perquisitions‡ tended to confirm. Only the day before, Jacques had been heard to threaten Monsieur de Bellefonds with speedy vengeance. On the fatal evening, Alphonse and Claudine had been seen together in the neighborhood of the now dismantled brewery; and as Jacques, betwixt poverty and democracy, was in bad odor with the respectable part of society, it was not easy for him to bring witnesses to character or to prove an unexceptionable alibi. As for the Bellefonds and De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in general, they entertained no doubt of his guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming to the same opinion, Jacques Rollet was committed for trial at the next assizes, and as a testimony of good-will, Antoine de Chaulieu was selected by the injured family to conduct the prosecution.

  Here, at last, was the opportunity he had sighed for. So interesting a case, too, furnishing such ample occasion for passion, pathos, indignation! And how eminently fortunate that the speech which he set himself with ardor to prepare would be delivered in the presence of the father and brother of his mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself. The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was altogether presumptive; there was no proof whatever that he had committed the crime; and for his own part, he stoutly denied it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained no doubt of his guilt, and the speech he composed was certainly well calculated to carry that conviction into the bosom of others. It was of the highest importance to his own reputation that he should procure a verdict, and he confidently assured the afflicted and enraged family of the victim that their vengeance should be satisfied.

  Under these circumstances, could anything be more unwelcome than a piece of intelligence that was privately conveyed to him late on the evening before the trial was to come on, which tended strongly to exculpate the prisoner, without indicating any other person as the criminal. Here was an opportunity lost. The first step of the ladder on which he was to rise to fame, fortune, and a wife was slipping from under his feet.

  Of course so interesting a trial was anticipated with great eagerness by the public; the court was crowded with all the beauty and fashion of Rouen, and amongst the rest, doubly interesting in her mourning, sat the fair Natalie, accompanied by her family.

  The young advocate’s heart beat high; he felt himself inspired by the occasion; and although Jacques Rollet persisted in asserting his innocence, founding his defence chiefly on circumstances which were strongly corroborated by the information that had reached De Chaulieu the preceding evening, he was nevertheless convicted.

  In spite of the very strong doubts he privately entertained respecting the justice of the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the first flush of success, amidst a crowd of congratulating friends and the approving smiles of his mistress, felt gratified and happy; his speech had, for the time being, not only convinced others but himself; warmed with his own eloquence, he believed what he said. But when the glow was over, and he found himself alone, he did not feel so comfortable. A latent doubt of Rollet’s guilt now pressed strongly on his mind, and he felt that the blood of the innocent would be on his head. It was true there was yet time to save the life of the prisoner; but to admit Jacques innocent, was to take the glory out of his own speech, and turn the sting of his argument against himself. Besides, if he produced the witness who had secretly given him the information, he should be self-condemned, for he could not conceal that he had been aware of the circumstance before the trial.

  Matters having gone so far, therefore, it was necessary that Jacques Rollet should die; and so the affair took its course; and early one morning the guillotine was erected in the courtyard of the gaol, three criminals ascended the scaffold, and three heads fell into the basket, which were presently afterward, with the trunks that had been attached to them, buried in a corner of the cemetery.

  Antoine de Chaulieu was now fairly started in his career, and his success was as rapid as the first step toward it had been tardy. He took a pretty apartment in the Hôtel Marbœuf, Rue Grange Batelière, and in a short time was looked upon as one of the most rising young advocates in Paris. His success in one line brought him success in another; he was soon a favorite in society, and an object of interest to speculating mothers; but his affections still adhered to his old love, Natalie de Bellefonds, whose family now gave their assent to the match,—at least prospectively,—a circumstance which furnished such additional incentive to his exertions, that in about two years from his first brilliant speech he was in a sufficiently flourishing condition to offer the young lady a suitable home.

  In anticipation of the happy event, he engaged and furnished a suite of apartments in the Rue de Helder; and as it was necessary that the bride should come to Paris to provide her trousseau, it was agreed that the wedding should take place there, instead of at Bellefonds, as had been first projected,—an arrangement the more desirable, that a press of business rendered Monsieur de Chaulieu’s absence from Paris inconvenient.

  Brides and bridegrooms in France, except of the very high classes, are not much in the habit of making those honeymoon excursions so universal in this country. A day spent in visiting Versailles, or St. Cloud, or even the public places of the city, is generally all that precedes the settling down into the habits of daily life. In the present instance, St. Denis was selected, from the circumstance of Natalie’s having a younger sister at school there, and also because she had a particular desire to see the Abbey.

  The wedding was to take place on a Thursday; and on the Wednesday evening, having spent some hours most agreeably with Natalie, Antoine de Chaulieu returned to spend his last night in his bachelor apartments. His wardrobe and other small possessions had already been packed up, and sent to his future home; and there was nothing left in his room now but his new wedding suit, which he inspected with considerable satisfaction before he undressed and lay down to sleep.

  Sleep, however, was somewhat slow to visit him, and the clock had struck one before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was broad daylight, and his first thought was, had he overslept himself? He sat
up in bed to look at the clock, which was exactly opposite; and as he did so, in the large mirror over the fireplace, he perceived a figure standing behind him. As the dilated eyes met his own, he saw it was the face of Jacques Rollet. Overcome with horror, he sank back on his pillow, and it was some minutes before he ventured to look again in that direction; when he did so, the figure had disappeared.

  The sudden revulsion of feeling which such a vision was calculated to occasion in a man elate with joy may be conceived. For some time after the death of his former foe, he had been visited by not infrequent twinges of conscience; but of late, borne along by success and the hurry of Parisian life, these unpleasant remembrances had grown rarer, till at length they had faded away altogether. Nothing had been further from his thoughts than Jacques Rollet when he closed his eyes on the preceding night, or when he opened them to that sun which was to shine on what he expected to be the happiest day of his life. Where were the high-strung nerves now, the elastic frame, the bounding heart?

  Heavily and slowly he arose from his bed, for it was time to do so; and with a trembling hand and quivering knees he went through the processes of the toilet, gashing his cheek with the razor, and spilling the water over his well-polished boots. When he was dressed, scarcely venturing to cast a glance in the mirror as he passed it, he quitted the room and descended the stairs, taking the key of the door with him, for the purpose of leaving it with the porter; the man, however, being absent, he laid it on the table in his lodge, and with a relaxed hand and languid step he proceeded to the carriage which quickly conveyed him to the church, where he was met by Natalie and her friends.