By Geoffrey Household
A vintage mystery set in Dorset after the second one international struggle, filled with Household's signature motion and suspense.
An afternoon's capturing within the kingdom turns out a delightful prospect to Roger Taine, a revered kin guy with a wonderful army list. but if he discovers a poacher on his land, he fires a caution blast that prevents the intruder lifeless in his tracks.
Investigating additional, Taine inadvertently uncovers a new-fascist plot which he's decided to thwart. a chain of auto chases, aeroplane drops and cross-country scrambles sharpen the secret, however the event takes a brand new twist while Taine discovers that he himself is being pursued by way of the police.
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Extra resources for A Rough Shoot
That, if it were so, made my guilt a thousand times worse. When I got home, there was further evidence that somebody was interested in my movements. ” Cecily asked. “No. ” She said that a man had called up and wanted to know if I had found his case. She replied that I hadn’t told her anything, and asked him where he had lost it. When he dined with me the week before last, he said, and added: “Let’s see. ” Now, this is a cautionary story for children on the virtue of never having secrets from one’s wife.
In the ordinary way he would never have made me suspicious. Blossom’s farm, the tall elms and the clear chalk stream, made a pretty, if somewhat obvious picture that always attracted the holiday-making townsman. It was a bit late, however, for holidays, and it wasn’t a week end; and then the man was dressed as some minor, pestiferous government employee, yet had no vehicle in sight. I drove very slowly away, and watched him in the mirror. He was looking after my car; he wrote something, presumably its number, in a notebook.
I had rented very cheaply the rough shooting over 450 acres of a remote Dorset farm. The sport wouldn’t have appealed to a man who liked driven pheasants or to a syndicate who expected the mixed bag to pay for their week end. You had to work for your game. But on a favorable afternoon, if your liver and eyes were in good order–for it was speed that counted–you might come home with a brace of partridges, a hare and of course all the rabbits you cared to kill. I shot purely for the pot, and anything I didn’t want I left for another day.