John Dickson Carr

Now it’s the turn of the newest heir, Dorothy Starberth’s brother Martin. Dorothy and Martin’s father Timothy was the last Starberth to die mysteriously, so the two are more than a little anxious. But Martin is going to go through with the ritual.

Rampole’s curiosity about the ritual is piqued, and so is his interest in Dorothy Starberth. So on the night of Martin’s birthday, Rampole keeps vigil with Fell and the local rector to see what happens. The next morning, Martin Starberth’s body is found. He’s apparently died from a fall over the balcony of the Governor’s Room. At first, it looks as though he’s had a terrible accident, but evidence soon becomes clear that he was murdered. The only problem is, nobody was seen to go near the prison that night, and there’s no evidence that anyone but Martin was in the Governor’s Room. There’s talk that he fell victim to the family curse, but Fell believes there’s a more prosaic solution (and there is). The only real clue to the murderer and the motive is a cryptic poem written by Anthony Starberth generations ago. Fell and Rampole work with Chief Constable Sir Benjamin Arnold to find out who murdered Martin Starberth and why.

The mystery is an intriguing and challenging one and its solution isn’t obvious. There’s an interesting twist in the last sentence of the novel, too. For those who like to try to solve puzzles, the cryptic poem is a bonus. Yet Carr “plays fair” with the reader. The clues are there if the reader makes sense of them, and when we find out who the murderer is and what the motive is, they are believable and fall out from the story.

Another interesting element that runs through this novel is its atmosphere. Carr uses setting quite effectively to build suspense. In this scene, for instance, Rampole has seen a light in the window of the Governor’s Room at the prison, and he and Dorothy Starberth are going to the prison to see if they can catch the murderer. The character of Dr. Gideon Fell has some interesting appeal – or maybe it’s just that I find language interesting and he’s a lexicographer. Here’s the way Rampole’s mentor describes Fell: “…he’s one of the greatest institutions in England. The man has more obscure, useless and fascinating information than any person I ever met. He’ll ply you with food and whisky until your head reels; he’ll talk interminably, on any subject whatever, but particularly on the glories and sports of old-time England. He likes band music, melodrama, beer and slapstick comedies; he’s a great old boy and you’ll like him.” And so it proves to be. Rampole and Fell do indeed develop a rapport, and although Rampole’s character is not quite as developed as that of Fell, the story is told from his point of view (although not told in the first person), so we do get a sense of his character. He’s bright and energetic, a bit idealistic if not exactly naïve, and appealingly eager to seem like a “man of the world.”

There’s also a welcome sense of humour in the story, although there’s plenty of suspense, too.

An intriguing mystery with a healthy dose of atmosphere and suspense and some gentle wit, Hag’s Nook is a solid example of Carr’s skill at the “impossible mystery”.

Review by Margot Kinberg, Confessions of a Mystery Novelist