The Case of the Gilded Fly (The First Gervase Fen Mystery)

The Case of the Gilded Fly (The First Gervase Fen Mystery)

Edmund Crispin

Language: English

Pages: 241

ISBN: 1933397004

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Theater companies are notorious hotbeds of intrigue, and few are more intriguing than the company currently in residence at Oxford University. Center-stage is the beautiful, malicious Yseut, a mediocre actress with a stellar talent for destroying men. Rounding out the cast are more than a few of her past and present conquests, and the women who love them. And watching from the wings is Professor Gervase Fen?scholar, wit, and fop extraordinaire?who would rather solve crimes than expound on English literature. When Yseut is murdered, Fen finally gets his wish. Gilded Fly, originally published in 1944, was both Fen's first outing and the debut of the pseudonymous Crispin (in reality, composer Bruce Montgomery).

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disgustedly. ‘On the contrary: I was trying to bring my conversation down to a level where it would be comprehensible to you. Have another drink?’ ‘No, thanks.’ The blonde crossed her very attractive legs and adjusted her skirt over them with meticulous care. ‘Tell me about the murder. I want to hear all about it.’ Nicholas emitted a snort, of disgust. ‘I’m fed up with the murder,’ he said, ‘I never want to hear another word about it to the end of my life.’ ‘Well, I do,’ the blonde persisted.

open air is a good place for making love.’ ‘Nonsense, it’s the only place. Look at the eclogues.’ She said meditatively: ‘I think Phyllida and Corydon must have ended up with a lot of bruises.’ ‘What is the best place to make love, then?’ ‘Bed.’ ‘Helen!’ said Nigel in shocked tones. ‘Darling, we are husband and wife in the sight of God,’ she said solemnly, ‘and these things are a fit subject of discussion between us.’ Her tone changed suddenly to one of dismay. ‘Oh, Nigel, look what a mess

sheet of notepaper. On it were three words, from one of the satires of Horace: Deprendi miserum est. ‘ “It is horrible to be found out,”’ said Nigel. ‘So – ?’ ‘So I put this in the post this evening, and hand over my notes to the police on Tuesday morning. That gives h – the murderer a remote chance to clear out. By the way, I rely on you not to let this go any further. I’ve discovered it’s a criminal offence.’ He grinned cheerfully. ‘In that case,’ murmured Nigel, ‘do you think it’s really

fact been suspected of complicity in the matter, but that nothing could be proved against him. That was before the war, naturally; nothing of that sort can be carried on now. But I claim no credit for that part of it; it was the merest fluke. But that was what I meant when I said that the questing beast was in fact, at the root of this business, though the actual motive was security. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to whip up much indignation about Warner’s goings-on. It’s always seemed to me that

later I saw him take it into Parker’s and exchange it for a detective novel.’ Nigel emitted a sound which can only be described as an explosive snort. When he had recovered he said: ‘I’m going in to see him after dinner tonight. Would you like to come?’ ‘Thanks, but it really can’t be managed. I’m going on Friday, when I’ve got this play off my mind a bit.’ At this point there suddenly appeared at the table the young Artillery captain to whom Yseut had spoken in the train. He wore a bashful

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