Swing, Brother, Swing

Harper

an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2009

Swing, Brother, Swing first published in Great Britain by Collins 1949

Ngaio Marsh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of these works

Copyright © Ngaio Marsh Ltd 1949

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Source ISBN: 9780007328734

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2009 ISBN: 9780007344628

Version 2018-03-06

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For Bet who asked for it

And now gets it with my love

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Cast of Characters

1 Letters

2 The Persons Assemble

3 Pre-Prandial

4 They Dine

5 A Wreath for Rivera

6 Dope

7 Dawn

8 Morning

9 The Yard

10 The Revolver, the Stiletto and his Lordship

11 Episodes in Two Flats and an Office

12 GPF

Keep Reading

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

From Lady Pastern and Bagott to her niece by marriage, Miss Carlisle Wayne:

3 DUKE’S GATE,

EATON PLACE, LONDON. SW1

MY DEAREST CARLISLE, – I am informed with that air of inconsequence which characterizes all your uncle’s utterances, of your arrival in England. Welcome Home. You may be interested to learn that I have rejoined your uncle. My motive is that of expediency. Your uncle proposes to give Clochemere to the nation and has returned to Duke’s Gate, where, as you may have heard, I have been living for the last five years. During the immediate post-war period I shared its dubious amenities with members of an esoteric Central European sect. Your uncle granted them what I believe colonials would call squatters’ rights, hoping no doubt to force me back upon the Cromwell Road or the society of my sister Desirée with whom I have quarrelled since we were first able to comprehend each other’s motives.

Other aliens were repatriated, but the sect remained. It will be a sufficient indication of their activities if I tell you that they caused a number of boulders to be set up in the principal reception room, that their ceremonies began at midnight and were conducted in antiphonal screams, that their dogma appeared to prohibit the use of soap and water and that they were forbidden to cut their hair. Six months ago they returned to Central Europe (I have never inquired the precise habitat) and I was left mistress of this house. I had it cleaned and prepared myself for tranquillity. Judge of my dismay! I found tranquillity intolerable. I had, it seems, acclimatized myself to nightly pandemonium. I had become accustomed to frequent encounters with persons who resembled the minor and dirtier prophets. I was unable to endure silence, and the unremarkable presence of servants. In fine, I was lonely. When one is lonely, one thinks of one’s mistakes. I thought of your uncle. Is one ever entirely bored by the incomprehensible? I doubt it. When I married your uncle (you will recollect that he was an attaché at your Embassy in Paris and a frequent caller at my parents’ house), I was already a widow, I was not, therefore,