The mystery of a hansom cab

Since War and Peace is proving too difficult to read at this time, I am aiming much lower. The book I am trying out is Fergus Hume’s The Mystery of a Hansom Cab – “the original blockbuster crime novel,” according to the back cover of the Text Classics edition.

Arthur Conan Doyle did not admire the writing of Fergus Hume. I’m not sure I admire it, but I do like it.

“Well,” said Mr Gorby, addressing his reflection in the looking glass, “I’ve been finding out things these last twenty years, but this is a puzzler and no mistake.”

Mr Gorby is the detective. Other important characters – socialites in Victorian Melbourne – spend lots of time drinking tea, casually discussing the murder (which the newspapers have turned into a sensation), and trying to arrange marriages for themselves. The book reminds me of nothing else so much as Daisy Ashford’s The Young Visiters, which she wrote when she was nine.

The murder is done with poison (chloroform) late at night in a hansom cab. This method has the virtue of noiselessness. Writers of the genre’s later “golden” age would have opted for air-bubble injection – also ludicrous – or strangulation.

More house hunting

This is turning out to be one of the most unpleasant things I’ve had to do.

Not long ago, after an evening during which Karin & I visited five houses, I woke up around 3:00am and lay in bed for two hours with what felt like electric current speeding through my body. I finally gave up and went to the living room.

Jasper took it as his cue to spread out on my lap. He must have comforted me: I promptly fell asleep.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Tonight we toured another house. It was inexpensive; it seemed comfortable enough to live in; it was in an unkempt neighborhood, next to two abandoned houses. It seemed like a good “backup” option. We decided not to rule it out. On the main level were a couple of large, open rooms through which Samuel ran back and forth. “That’s the boy I know,” said our realtor, who is finally warming up to him (the realtor is a bit of a sourpuss).

We toured an abandoned house on Wednesday. Our realtor wouldn’t go inside with us. We found rotten food, dead mice, etc. I wouldn’t allow Samuel to run around in that house, though he tried to squirm out of my arms.

The house itself wasn’t bad, but the one we saw today was better, and it costs about the same amount.

Tomorrow, two more houses.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

In Texas, David is reading War and Peace with his book club. I said I’d read it at the same time; but, obviously, I’m finding it impossible to keep up, what with all this worrying about houses.

Before all of this, Karin & I had been planning a little vacation, but that’s on hold. I don’t think we’ve said a word about it since we visited our first house.