By Geoffrey Household
A vintage mystery set in Dorset after the second one international battle, choked with Household's signature motion and suspense.
An afternoon's taking pictures within the kingdom turns out a delightful prospect to Roger Taine, a revered kin guy with a special army checklist. but if he discovers a poacher on his land, he fires a caution blast that prevents the intruder useless in his tracks.
Investigating extra, Taine inadvertently uncovers a new-fascist plot which he's made up our minds to thwart. a chain of vehicle chases, aeroplane drops and cross-country scrambles sharpen the secret, however the experience takes a brand new twist whilst Taine discovers that he himself is being pursued via the police.
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Additional info for A Rough Shoot
It was nine o’clock when I got home, and, as I expected, Cecily was very worried. She had visions of a shooting accident; they were not unreasonable, and, if you think of it, they were correct. My lateness was inexplicable. If I had stopped at a pub or to see a friend on my way home, I should have telephoned. She knew, too, that I wouldn’t willingly disappoint our two boys, who had been promised a long story before bedtime. I told her that I had stayed very late looking for a dead bird, and that on the way back a tire had been punctured (which was true, for I had driven a pin into it just before reaching home), so I had had to walk.
One had a cultured accent, and a loud and hearty voice. The other was a foreigner. Their speed and energy made me certain that neither was the man I had seen at Blossom’s gate. Dense cloud was moving over the ground, and in that foggy darkness I could get no impression at all of height or build. It was a comforting thought that to them too I must have been nothing but a piece of night which moved. By the time they got clear of the wire and were able to listen to anything but themselves, I was safe.
I am thirty-four, with a family and no capital. I have a good job as Dorset agent for a big quarry combine, producing cement, roofing tiles, special bricks, stone for building and gravel for roads, and all sorts of by-products that interest an up-to-date architect or county surveyor. What with commission and salary, I’ve no complaints, but my family, of course, has no security beyond my own earning power. So, as I stood over the corpse and watched the dark shadow–in a dusk already too deep to distinguish color-spreading over his clothes from beneath the head of that gigantic thumbtack, I passed from the police interrogation to what the judge would say.
A Rough Shoot by Geoffrey Household