Collected Works of J S Fletcher Read online

  The Collected Works of

  J. S. FLETCHER

  (1863-1935)

  Contents

  The Novels

  Frank Carisbroke’s Stratagem (1888)

  Andrewlina (1889)

  Mr. Spivey’s Clerk (1890)

  When Charles the First Was King (1892)

  In the Days of Drake (1895)

  Where Highways Cross (1895)

  Mistress Spitfire (1896)

  Baden Powell of Mafeking (1900)

  Lucian the Dreamer (1903)

  Perris of the Cherry-Trees (1913)

  The King versus Wargrave (1915)

  The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation (1917)

  Paul Campenhaye (1918)

  The Chestermarke Instinct (1918)

  The Borough Treasurer (1919)

  The Middle Temple Murder (1919)

  The Talleyrand Maxim (1919)

  Scarhaven Keep (1920)

  The Herapath Property (1920)

  The Lost Mr. Linthwaite (1920)

  The Orange-Yellow Diamond (1920)

  The Markenmore Mystery (1921)

  The Root of All Evil (1921)

  Wrychester Paradise (1921)

  In the Mayor’s Parlour (1922)

  Ravensdene Court (1922)

  The Middle of Things (1922)

  The Charing Cross Mystery (1923)

  The Kang-He Vase (1924)

  The Safety Pin (1924)

  Sea Fog (1925)

  The Bedford Row Mystery (1925)

  The Cartwright Gardens Murder (1925)

  The Mill of Many Windows (1925)

  Dead Men’s Money (1928)

  Murder at Wrides Park (1931)

  Murder in Four Degrees (1931)

  Murder of the Ninth Baronet (1932)

  The Borgia Cabinet (1932)

  The Solution of a Mystery (1932)

  Todmanhawe Grange (1937)

  The Shorter Fiction

  Mr. Poskitt’s Nightcaps (1910)

  The Secret of the Barbican and Other Stories (1924)

  Miscellaneous Stories (1907)

  The Poetry Collections

  The Juvenile Poems of Joseph S. Fletcher (1879)

  Early Poems by Joseph Smith Fletcher (1882)

  Anima Christi (1884)

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  The Collected Works of

  J. S. FLETCHER

  By Delphi Classics, 2020

  COPYRIGHT

  Collected Works of J. S. Fletcher

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Delphi Classics.

  © Delphi Classics, 2020.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

  ISBN: 978 1 91348 710 2

  Delphi Classics

  is an imprint of

  Delphi Publishing Ltd

  Hastings, East Sussex

  United Kingdom

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  The Novels

  Halifax, a minster town in West Yorkshire — Fletcher’s birthplace

  Halifax in 1834

  Frank Carisbroke’s Stratagem (1888)

  J. S. Fletcher was born in 1863 in Halifax, Yorkshire, England and at the age of eighteen went to London to get into journalism. He worked on a few newspapers before moving into freelance writing. His first novel originally appeared in August 1888 as part of Jarrold’s Railway Library; some editions changed the name of the hero from Carisbroke to Carisbrooke. With fewer than thirty thousand words, this is very much a novelette, but then Jarrold’s Railway Library was meant to publish the sort of literature you could read on a train journey, so this was ideal.

  It tells the story of Frank Carisbroke, in his early twenties, “tall, frank…with an expression of happiness and good humor”. His late father has left him a fortune and with no other family he lives comfortably with an income of five thousand a year. To help fill his time he’s been learning how to be an acrobat at the local circus, run by Mr and Mrs Gammidge and their daughter Tottie.

  He brings his fiancée Maude and her family to the circus, but they’re not amused when Frank leaps into the ring to help Tottie when she falls of her horse during a performance. After they return home, Frank, smoking a cigar in the garden, overhears Maude and her mother talking, saying how she was only marrying him for his money. Frank, after some thought, disappears up to London for a week and when he comes back, it seems he has lost all of his money. Maude cancels their engagement and Frank is forced to get a job at the circus. However, Gammidge’s circus is running out of money and can’t afford to pay its bills. What will Frank do?

  As it was a novelette, Frank Carisbroke’s Stratagem was largely ignored by critics, though one or two called it “a lovely little story”, whilst The Pall Mall Gazette simply noted that it was “neatly got up”.

  Fletcher as a young man

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I.

  CHAPTER II.

  CHAPTER III.

  CHAPTER IV.

  CHAPTER V.

  CHAPTER VI.

  CHAPTER VII.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  CHAPTER IX.

  CHAPTER X.

  CHAPTER XI.

  CHAPTER XII.

  High Street, Ashford, Kent — the setting of the novel. Frank’s apartments are located on the High Street.

  High Street, Ashford, in the early Victorian era

  TO

  W. H. HARVEY, B. A.,

  IN REMEMBRANCE

  OF MANY YEARS’ PLEASANT FRIENDSHIP.

  Bradford, June 21st, 1888

  CHAPTER I.

  GAMMIDGE’S ROYAL CIRCUS.

  “IF ONLY HE belonged to the profession!” said the tall man with a sigh of regret.

  He looked into the ring as he spoke, where a young man in acrobatic costume was disporting himself with considerable agility on a cross-bar. “He would be a regular success, and no mistake,” he continued, as the subject of his admiration gyrated and turned cart wheels and twisted himself into strange attitudes, al; with great ease and evident enjoyment. “He’s as clever as — as I am.”

  “Ah!” said the little man at his side. “Well — nearly, and that’s a-sayin’ of a great deal, ain’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” said the tall individual carelessly, “but you mark me, Gammidge, this young feller would have made a tip-topper in my line. He’d have earned a pot of money, that he would.”

  “’E don’t want it, my boy, ’e don’t want it,” answered Mr. Gammidge, “‘E’s got plenty of ’is own.”

  “Yes,” said the other. “I know that. So had I once.”

  “‘Ad you, now, ‘ad you?” said the little man sympathetically. “I always thought there was some mystery about you, my boy. Well, we’ve all of us ‘ad our troubles, I s’pose, and we’ve got to bear ’em somehow.”

  “That’s it,” said the big man, rubbing his red nose reflectively.” But the party who gives out the troubles don’t always seem to divide ’em f
airly, eh?”

  “I don’t know about that,” answered Mr. Gammidge. “I s’pose it’s somethin’ to do with Providence, my boy. Providence don’t go far wrong in the long run. I’ve always found the troubles and the pleasures to balance pretty well. I guess so do most folks.”

  “No, they don’t,” said the red-nosed individual, “no, they don’t. Not by a long chalk.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Gammidge. “Perhaps you’re right, Murfioni, my boy. I don’t say you’re not. We must all speak for ourselves, my boy; we must all speak for ourselves.”

  He sauntered away towards a dark corner of the ring, where two seedy individuals, whose cheeks were very white and whose noses were just as red, were laboriously perfecting a new joke for that evening’s performance. Both looked exceedingly serious, and from the painful expression of their faces one would have thought they were about to undergo some terrible ordeal. Mr. Gammidge paused by them a moment, and then passed on to the entrance from the stables, where a young lady was preparing to mount a gentle-looking steed, on whose back two grooms were carefully strapping a saddle.

  “Goin’ to practise a bit, Tottie?” said Mr. Gammidge.

  “Yes, pa’, just five minutes,” answered the young lady. “I’m not quite sure about that new step, and I don’t want no accidents — not me!”

  “That’s right,” said Mr. Gammidge approvingly. “There’s nothin’ like practice. You’ll make a clever gel, Tottie, if you keep on a-practisin’. I shouldn’t wonder if you’ll be asked to engage with Sanger’s or Hengler’s some of these days.”

  “I’d rather stop with Gammidge’s Royal,” answered Miss Tottie, springing up to her saddle. “Let him go, Bill.”

  “She’d rather stop with Gammidge’s Royal,” said Mr. Gammidge, his watery eyes following Miss Tottie in her progress round the ring. “She’s a good gel, a good gel. She’s fond of her old dad, too.”

  He stood watching her for a while, his old face full of pride in his girl’s cleverness. He himself had not been so clever in his calling as to prevent the accumulation of those troubles which he had just mentioned to Signor Murfioni. Thomas Gammidge had known plenty of troubles in his time, but he had pushed through them all somehow, and the Royal Circus was still going the round of the provinces. And its proprietor was still able to wear a glossy silk hat on one side of his curly head, and to smoke a good cigar as he strolled about the ring of a morning to see what his people were doing.

  “Well, old Gammidge!” said a cheery voice at his elbow, as he still stood admiring Miss Tottie’s aerial flights.

  “How you did make me jump, my boy!” said Mr. Gammidge, turning round. “I didn’t see you’d left your practisin’. You’re a-improvin’ on the trapeze wonderful, Mr. Carisbroke, you are, indeed, sir.”

  “And I feel much better for it,” said Mr. Carisbroke, who had changed his acrobatic costume for a light grey suit, which showed off his athletic figure to much advantage. “My chest is expanding tremendously.”

  “I’m sure it will, my boy,” said Mr. Gammidge sympathetically, as though the stalwart young fellow at his side were an invalid. “It’ll do you a deal of good. But you should ha’ bin in the profession, my boy, you should. Why, Murfioni there, ’e says you can do all the tricks he’s shown you to perfection!”

  “Oh,” said Mr. Carisbroke, “it’s only a lark, don’t you know! I know I can pick up things pretty quickly.”

  “I should think so, indeed,” said old Gammidge.

  “But of course I can’t do things like Murfioni. A fellow must have something to do in the mornings, don’t you know. I believe in a sound body, eh?”

  “Yes, my boy, and so do I. You’ve done yourself a lot of good a-practisin’ on these here trapezes.”

  “I’m thinking of starting one in my rooms, don’t you know.” said Mr. Carisbroke. “Must have somewhere to practise when you’re gone, eh, Gammidge?”

  “Of course,” answered Mr. Gammidge. “Yes, we shall on’y be here another six weeks, Mr. Carisbroke, sir; we shall have to go then.”

  “By Jove, Gammidge, I shall really be sorry when you go. I’ve enjoyed myself awfully, don’t you know, learning all these things,” said the young man.

  He was a tall, frank, open-faced fellow, perhaps twenty-three years old, with an expression of happiness and good-humour which was very taking. His curly brown hair and moustache matched his brown eyes, and his hands and face were tanned from constant exposure to the sun. Frank Carisbroke was accustomed to spend all his life out of doors, and what with cricket and tennis in summer, and hunting and football in winter, he had brought his athletic figure to something well-nigh like perfection. Lately he had been amusing himself by taking lessons in gymnastics from the talented Signor Murfioni of Gammidge’s Royal Circus.

  “Yes, I shall be sorry when you go,” he repeated, looking at the sawdust-sprinkled ring, the dingy boards, the tawdry hangings, and the generally untidy-looking interior.

  “And so shall I, my boy,” said Mr. Gammidge, throwing a double amount of sympathy into his voice. “But we’ll return next year, Mr. Carisbroke, if all’s well.”

  “Next year,” said the young man dreamily, “next year — um, I shan’t have much time for amusing myself next year.”

  “What did you say, sir?” enquired the circus-proprietor. “Oh, nothing — only a trick I have of thinking aloud. Well, how is Mrs. Gammidge this morning? I haven’t seen her about.”

  “She’s pretty well, sir, thank you. Probably she’s in the box-office a-lookin’ out for some of the nobs what don’t often come to patronize us,” said Mr. Gammidge, chuckling. “Ah, by-the-bye,” said Mr. Carisbroke, “that reminds me that I want some stall-tickets for to-night — I’m going to bring some people.”

  “With pleasure, my boy. I’ll see that the stalls are dusted and made tidy,” said Mr. Gammidge, brightening at the mention of tickets. “We’ll have a good programme to-night, too. I’m expecting a new addition to the company this afternoon, Mr. Carisbroke.”

  “Indeed,” said Frank; “something very good, Gammidge?”

  Mr. Gammidge put his hand on the young man’s shoulder — a feat requiring some effort, as Mr. Carisbroke was fully six feet in his stockings, and the circus-proprietor was little more than five-feet-three — and lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “You’re right, my boy,” he said. “It’s something very good. Indeed. It’s Silas!”

  He nodded at Mr. Carisbroke as much to infer that Silas’s merit was quite beyond question. “Silas, eh? And who is Silas?”

  Mr. Gammidge let his hand fall and put on an injured air. “Lor’ bless you, my boy,” he said. “Surely you’ve ‘eard of Silas! Why ‘e’s the cleverest performer in his line in the world.”

  “Really,” said Frank smiling. “I’m afraid I must be terribly ignorant, you know; but really, I never heard of Mr. Silas.”

  “Mr.” repeated the circus-proprietor. “Ha, ha, ha! Why, my boy, Silas is a donkey — a performing donkey! And a clever one he is too, I’ve bought him,” continued Mr. Gammidge, again sinking his voice to a pitch of confidence, “and a fancy price I’ve give for him, too.”

  “Oh, indeed,” responded Mr. Carisbroke. “I hope he’ll repay you, Gammidge.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Gammidge, pushing aside his glossy hat and scratching his right ear. “I ‘ope ’e will, and I think: ’e will. His mother was an uncommon animal too, but Silas can beat her ‘ollow.”

  “What line does he take?” asked Frank. “I don’t know that I ever saw a performing donkey.”

  “Oh, ’e takes a good many lines,” replied Mr. Gammidge. “‘E’s very ‘ighly educated indeed, my boy, I don’t believe there’s another donkey in the world like Silas, I’ve had my eye on ’im for a long time.”

  “Well, I’ll go round and buy my tickets,” said the young man. “Good morning, Gammidge.”

  “Good morning, sir, good morning. You’ll find Mrs. Gammidge in the box-office, anxious and willin’ to serve you, M
r. Carisbroke. I ‘ope your friends will enjoy their evenin’s entertainment, sir.”

  Frank nodded, and went round underneath the rough wooden structure towards the front of the circus, where he knew he should find Mrs. Gammidge installed in a small tank-like structure, which she dignified with the name of the box-office. The good lady sat there patiently every day from ten till twelve o’clock, waiting for people to come and book seats in the boxes or grand circle. But she was not often rewarded for her patience. Few people in Ashford cared to book places at Gammidge’s Royal Circus; it was at the shilling and sixpenny doors that Mrs. Gammidge and her lieutenants took most money.

  If the wealthy people of Ashford had followed Frank Carisbroke’s example, Mr and Mrs. Gammidge would have had small reason to complain of coldness. Frank had taken the worthy old couple under his patronage as soon as they came to the town, and they owed a good deal to him. But there were few people who had either so much time or money at command as Frank Carisbroke. He was quite alone in the world, and since attaining his majority he had amused himself just as he pleased. His father, old William Carisbroke, a retired cornfactor, had left the lad a large fortune, and he had put it entirely at Frank’s control. He had neither brother nor sister, and the only relations he could boast of were two or three far-removed cousins on his mother’s side. As Mrs. Carisbroke had died when her son was seventeen, Frank had seen little of these people since, and so, for all practical purposes, he was relationless. Of course he had plenty of friends, as all young men with large means have. Whether such friends will always stand a severe test of their friendship is another question. At any rate Frank Carisbroke, at twenty-three, had found his lot in life a very pleasant one. He had comfortable bachelor chambers in the High street, three or four hunters in the Crown stables, a nice income of five thousand a year, nothing to do but obey his own will, and he was engaged to be married to Maude Seymour, the handsomest girl in Ashford. Most men, under these circumstances, would have found it hard not to be comfortable, and Frank Carisbroke being of a conventional type, and having no great possibilities in him either one way or another, enjoyed his lot, and was thankful that fortune had been so kind to him.