The Evidence
Chapters (29)
- Dedication
- The Evidence
- Snow Upon the Rails
- The Mystery of the Two Keys
- The Lost Two Hours
- Lights in a Darkened Room
- The Money Trap
- Strangers in a Car
- The Enigma of Change
- Sad Story of the Death of Kings
- Dreadful is the Checking
- Presumed Guilty
- Questions, Questions
- The Death Club
- The Riddle of the Hands
- Half Answers
- A Detective Inspector Calls
- The Temple of Wonders
- Into the Cabinets of Death
- The Alleged Safeguard
- The Journeying Boat
- Engine of Destruction
- A Parity of Arms
- The Story of DI Spoder (ret’d)
- The False Inspector Harsent
- The Concatenated Man
- Todd’s Last Case
- Also by Christopher Priest from Gollancz:
- Copyright
Dedication
Dedication
To John Clute
The Evidence
The Evidence
Christopher Priest
GOLLANCZ
LONDON
Contents
Dedication
Title Page
1. Snow Upon the Rails
2. The Mystery of the Two Keys
3. The Lost Two Hours
4. Lights in a Darkened Room
5. The Money Trap
6. Strangers in a Car
7. The Enigma of Change
8. Sad Story of the Death of Kings
9. Dreadful is the Checking
10. Presumed Guilty
11. Questions, Questions
12. The Death Club
13. The Riddle of the Hands
14. Half Answers
15. A Detective Inspector Calls
16. The Temple of Wonders
17. Into the Cabinets of Death
18. The Alleged Safeguard
19. The Journeying Boat
20. Engine of Destruction
21. A Parity of Arms
22. The Story of DI Spoder (ret’d)
23. The False Inspector Harsent
24. The Concatenated Man
25. Todd’s Last Case
Also by Christopher Priest from Gollancz:
Copyright
Snow Upon the Rails
1
Snow Upon the Rails
What am I doing here? Why did I agree to it? Two whole days of this?
Such thoughts. I was leaning my head disconsolately against the window, feeling the cold from outside as it seeped through the toughened glass, watching as the train passed through an endless frozen landscape of heavy industrial works, derelict buildings and spoilage. At intervals, white and orange floodlights glared down on concrete emplacements. I felt I did not belong, because no one could belong in such a place. The sky was the darkest grey, like an old cinder, daylight was only grudgingly admitted. The hills were streaked with thin snow, the train went slowly. Sometimes it stopped. Sometimes it went even more slowly.
I dreaded what would happen if the train broke down, or I was told to leave the carriage, or there was an unannounced change of trains at some remote junction. This train and this compartment were my only protection, and a degree of familiarity. They insulated me from the frozen landscape beyond the glass.
I was on an all-expenses visit to a distant university, where I was scheduled to deliver the keynote speech at an academic conference. It was on a subject in which I was believed to be an expert, but in fact there was a twist to it I knew nothing about. The title of my lecture was the same as the title of the conference itself: The Role of the Modern Crime Novel in a Crime-Free Society.