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Death at the Bar

Ngaio Marsh
Chapters (24)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Dedication
  3. Cast of Characters
  4. CHAPTER 1The Plume of Feathers
  5. CHAPTER 2Advance by Watchman
  6. CHAPTER 3Further Advance by Watchman
  7. CHAPTER 4The Evening in Question
  8. CHAPTER 5Failure by Mr Legge
  9. CHAPTER 6Inquest
  10. CHAPTER 7Complaint from a Publican
  11. CHAPTER 8Alleyn at Illington
  12. CHAPTER 9Alleyn at the Feathers
  13. CHAPTER 10The Tumbler and the Dart
  14. CHAPTER 11Routine
  15. CHAPTER 12Curious Behaviour of Mr Legge
  16. CHAPTER 13Miss Darragh Stands firm
  17. CHAPTER 14Crime and Mr Legge
  18. CHAPTER 15Love Interest
  19. CHAPTER 16Alleyn Exceeds His Duty
  20. CHAPTER 17Mr Fox Takes Sherry
  21. CHAPTER 18Mr Legge Commits a Misdemeanour
  22. CHAPTER 19The Chief Constable as Watson
  23. CHAPTER 20Conjecture into Fact
  24. About the Publisher

Cover Page

Dedication

For My Friends in the Dunedin Repertory Society

Cast of Characters

Luke Watchman, KC
Sebastian Parish His cousin
Norman Cubitt, RA
Abel Pomeroy Proprietor, Plume of Feathers, Devon
Will Pomeroy His son
Mrs Ives Housekeeper at the Plume of Feathers
The Hon Violet Darragh Of County Clare, Ireland
Robert Legge Secretary and Treasurer to the Coombe Left Movement
George Nark Farmer, of Ottercombe
Decima Moore Of Cary Edge Farm and of Oxford
Dr Shaw Police Surgeon, Illington
Nicholas Harper Superintendent of Police, Illington
Richard Oates, PC Of the Illington and Ottercombe Constabulary
Dr Mordant Coroner for Illington
Roderick Alleyn Chief Detective-Inspector, Criminal Investigation Department
T. R. Fox Inspector, Criminal Investigation Department
Colonel, The Honourable Maxwell Brammington Chief Constable

CHAPTER 1
The Plume of Feathers

As Luke Watchman drove across Otterbrook Bridge the setting sun shone full in his eyes. A molten flood of sunlight poured towards him through the channel of the lane and broke into sequins across Otterbrook waters. He arched his hand over his eyes and peered through the spattered dazzle of the windscreen. Somewhere about here was the turning for Ottercombe. He lowered the window and leant out.

The warmth of evening touched his face. The air smelt of briar, of fern, and more astringently of the distant sea. There, fifty yards ahead, was the finger-post with its letters almost rubbed out by rain, ‘Ottercombe, 7 miles.’

Watchman experienced the fufilment of a nostalgic longing and was content. Only now, when he was within reach of his journey’s end, did he realize how greatly he had desired this return. The car moved forward and turned from the wide lane into the narrow. The curves of hills marched down behind hedgerows. There was no more sunlight. Thorns brushed the windows on each side, so narrow was the lane. The car bumped over pot-holes. The scent of spring-watered earth rose coldly from the banks.