The Secret of Chimneys

The Secret of Chimneys (1925) Agatha Christie (Superintendent Battle)

Honestly, I have absolutely no memory of this book.

I read only a handful of the Poirot books, and I remember some of the Tommy & Tuppence books, but this? And Superintendent Battle? The only thing that was familiar was the title (and I actually thought it was a Tommy & Tuppence story).

Anthony Cade is some kind of scoundrel.

“Why does he call you Joe, then?”

“Oh, just because it isn’t my name.”

“And why Gentleman Joe?”

“The same kind of reason.”

He ends up taking a handwritten memoir and a packet of letters to England for a friend, who is off the check a claim to a gold mine and doesn’t have the time to do so himself, despite there being a thousand dollars for whoever hands in the memoir.

Only, it seems people are willing to cheat and kill for the memoir, and the letters don’t seem to be precisely what they seem at first glance.

Oddly, I found parts of the story rather prescient:

It is most important that the oil concessions should be granted to a British company. You must see that?”

“I get you,” said Anthony. “Michael was backed by England, Nicholas by America. In both countries a group of financiers are anxious to obtain the oil concessions.

This is thirty-some years before the Iranian coup, yet you can see the lengths the governments are willing to go for control over those oil fields.

But let’s get something important out of the way: holy cats there is a ton of casual racism on this story. I’ve recently reread all the early Miss Marple mysteries so this was unexpected. So beware of that.

Second, I was surprised by some of the turns of phrase.

“I get you,” said Mr. Fish.

“I get you,” said Anthony. “Michael was backed by England, Nicholas by America. In both countries a group of financiers are anxious to obtain the oil concessions.

I did not think that phrase hearkened back to before WWII.

Secondly, this was a bit of a surprise.

Mr. Eversleigh recovered his dignity. “You don’t understand at all, Virginia,” he said severely. “Men—”

“Are polygamous! I know they are. Sometimes I have a shrewd suspicion that I am polyandrous.”

And lastly, from a modern standpoint, this was amusing.

And whatever you may imagine from reading detective stories, doctors aren’t such magicians that they can tell you exactly how many hours a man has been dead.

As far as the mystery, I have a suspicion I must have read this at some point, since I was pretty certain in my mind about some details. But parts of the story felt a bit all over the place at times. But that’s possibly because Anthony Cade never quite felt reliable.

So interesting, but certainly not a comfort read like the Miss Marple stories.

Publisher: Open Road Media

Rating: 6/10

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