A review of The Case of the Happy Warrior by Christopher Bush – 240313

In delirio veritas. The fear of someone with a secret to hide is that the truth will emerge when their subconscious takes over as happens in the thirty-seventh novel in Christopher Bush’s Ludovic Travers, originally published in 1950 and reissued by Dean Street Press. In her feverish state, Alice Stonhill mutters a phrase repeatedly which, when he untangles the homophone it contains, allows Travers, at the second attempt, to unravel the truth and discover who killed Peter Wesslake. It is also another case where a physical characteristic betrays an identity.

In this story Travers is still in a state of limbo, waiting for his mukker, George Wharton, to retire from the Yard and join him in taking over Bill Ellice’s detective agency. To fill in time he helps at the agency and is present, albeit lurking in an ante-room, when Alice Stonhill calls to ask for help, fearing that someone is trying to kill her nephew’s second wife, Camille. There have been a couple of near misses, a shooting incident and a case of poisoning, but cautious Bill, fearful for his agency’s reputation, is reluctant to do anything. However, that does not stop Travers operating in an unofficial basis.

The story is narrated by Travers and falls into four parts. It is only in the fourth part that Wharton makes an appearance as Peter Wesslake’s body has been discovered and the case is now a murder investigation. As a consequence, the tale lacks a little of the usual cut and thrust between the amateur and professional sleuth and when the two do get together Travers is content to take more of a backseat, although, of course, Wharton naturally misinterprets what really happened and Travers is left to save his bacon.

As we are now firmly in the post-war era, some aspects of travel have become easier and some of the action takes place in Denmark where Peter Wesslake is supposed to have gone to attend a conference. Travers’ suspicions that this might be an elaborate alibi are confirmed by what he finds out there. Nevertheless, the signs that Britain is still recovering from the consequences of war are still there as longer-term guests at the Malfroi Arms still have to surrender their ration books.

A curious features of the book is the two references to Aneurin Bevin’s jibe that the Tories are “lower than vermin”. With relatively few notable exceptions, Golden Age detective writers tend to be conservative at heart, often wistfully looking back to an era of country houses, extravagant parties, and legions of servants, and, indeed, the essential premise of a cosy murder mystery is that out of chaos order will be restored. For the moneyed classes, the arrival of a socialist government and a high level of taxation was a source of concern and Bush, more than any other novelist of the genre I have read, seems particularly disturbed by a government that puts the interests of the workers first. He even misrepresents Bevin’s jibe; it was aimed at the Tories’ opposition to the establishment of the NHS – nothing ever changes – rather than the upper classes in general.

The action hots up at the Malfoi Arms where Alice Stonhill is celebrating her eightieth birthday. Camille is attacked and left for dead, Alice discovers an intruder in her room and, some time later, the body of Peter Wesslake is found in the woods. While there are very few credible suspects, in true Bush style, there is a much more intricate plot where an elaborate plan goes awry. Despite a confession, Travers is not convinced that it adds up and persuades Wharton to make a trip to the countryside to confront the Happy Warrior, a character who will fight for what they believe to the last.

The ending is as poignant as it is dramatic and rounds off what is an entertaining story, crisply told and a complex plot that is amongst Bush’s best.