American Sherlocks by Nick Rennison (reading like a writer .TXT) 📕

ELINOR FROST

Created by Carolyn Wells (1862-1942)

Born in New Jersey, Carolyn Wells began her writing career as a poet and children’s author but turned to crime fiction in her forties. The Clue, the first of her novels featuring the master detective Fleming Stone, was published in 1909 and she went on to write dozens more, the last two appearing in the year of her death. Now mostly forgotten (although one of the Fleming Stone books was recently republished in the Collins Crime Club series), Wells was one of the most popular writers of crime fiction in America during her heyday. In 1913, she produced a guide to the genre entitled The Technique of the Mystery Story and she also published both a number of novels featuring detectives other than Fleming Stone and a variety of short stories. One of these is ‘Christabel’s Crystal’ which first appeared in 1905. It is essentially a clever parody of the traditional detective story, already well enough established to have recognisable themes and motifs at which Wells can poke gentle fun. Her narrator Elinor Frost herself has the deductive gifts of the great detective, although it’s left to the drawling, monocled English aristo Lord Hammerton to explain the elaborate, improbable logic he uses to identify, completely by accident, the criminal.

CHRISTABEL’S CRYSTAL

Of all the unexpected pleasures that have come into my life, I think perhaps the greatest was when Christabel Farland asked me to be bridesmaid at her wedding.

I always had liked Christabel at college, and though we hadn’t seen much of each other since we were graduated, I still had a strong feeling of friendship for her, and besides that I was glad to be one of the merry house party gathered at Farland Hall for the wedding festivities.

I arrived the afternoon before the wedding-day, and found the family and guests drinking tea in the library. Two other bridesmaids were there, Alice Fordham and Janet White, with both of whom I was slightly acquainted. The men, however, except Christabel’s brother Fred, were strangers to me, and were introduced as Mr Richmond, who was to be an usher; Herbert Gay, a neighbor, who chanced to be calling; and Mr Wayne, the tutor of Christabel’s younger brother Harold. Mrs Farland was there too, and her welcoming words to me were as sweet and cordial as Christabel’s.

The party was in frivolous mood, and as the jests and laughter grew more hilarious, Mrs Farland declared that she would take the bride-elect away to her room for a quiet rest, lest she should not appear at her best the next day.

‘Come with me, Elinor,’ said Christabel to me, ‘and I will show you my wedding-gifts.’

Together we went to the room set apart for the purpose, and on many white-draped tables I saw displayed the gorgeous profusion of silver, glass and bric-a-brac that are one of the chief component parts of a wedding of today.

I had gone entirely through my vocabulary of ecstatic adjectives and was beginning over again when we came to a small table which held only one wedding-gift.

‘That is the gem of the whole collection,’ said Christabel, with a happy smile, ‘not only because Laurence gave it to me, but because of its intrinsic perfection and rarity.’

I looked at the bridegroom’s gift in some surprise. Instead of the conventional diamond sunburst or heart-shaped brooch, I saw a crystal ball as large as a fair-sized orange.

I knew of Christabel’s fondness for Japanese crystals and that she had a number of small ones of varying qualities; but this magnificent specimen fairly took my breath away. It was poised on the top of one of those wavecrests, which the artisans seem to think appropriately interpreted in wrought-iron. Now, I haven’t the same subtle sympathy with crystals that Christabel always has had; but still this great, perfect, limpid sphere affected me strangely. I glanced at it at first with a calm interest; but as I continued to look I became fascinated, and soon found myself obliged (if I may use the expression) to tear my eyes away.

Christabel watched me curiously. ‘Do you love it too?’ she said, and then she turned her eyes to the crystal with a rapt and rapturous gaze that made her appear lovelier than ever. ‘Wasn’t it dear of Laurence?’ she said. ‘He wanted to give me jewels of course; but I told him I would rather have this big crystal than the Koh-i-noor. I have six others, you know; but the largest of them isn’t one-third the diameter of this.’

‘It is wonderful,’ I said, ‘and I am glad you have it. I must own it frightens me a little.’

‘That is because of its perfection,’ said Christabel simply. ‘Absolute flawless perfection always is awesome. And when it is combined with perfect, faultless beauty, it is the ultimate perfection of a material thing.’

‘But I thought you liked crystals because of their weird supernatural influence over you,’ I said.

‘That is an effect, not a cause,’ Christabel replied. ‘Ultimate perfection is so rare in our experiences that its existence perforce produces consequences so rare as to be dubbed weird and supernatural. But I must not gaze at my crystal longer now, or I shall forget that it is my wedding-day. I’m not going to look at it again until after I return from my wedding-trip; and then, as I tell Laurence, he will have to share my affection with his wedding-gift to me.’

Christabel gave the crystal a long parting look, and then ran away to don her wedding-gown. ‘Elinor,’ she called over her shoulder, as she neared her own door, ‘I’ll leave my crystal in your special care. See that nothing happens to it while I’m away.’

‘Trust me!’ I called back gaily, and then went in search of my sister bridesmaids.

The morning after the wedding began rather later than most mornings. But at last we all were seated at the breakfast-table and enthusiastically discussing the events of the night before. It seemed strange to be there