There is some slightly dodgy crosswording in a horribly enjoyable tale by the mystery writer behind the Henry Tibbett tales
The historian AJP Taylor thought himself above whodunnits. In his book English History 1914-1945, he insists that the only thing detective novels have to offer is that they sometimes provide social details that proper literature misses out.
“Otherwise,” he sniffs, the genre is “without significance: an intellectual game like the crosswords”.
Henry forced himself to be stern. ‘This isn’t a game, Major Manciple,’ he said. ‘Nor is it a crossword puzzle. A man has been killed.’
Push along with a pole? Well – er – it’s a theory (7)
A female relative, we hear, died with a broken toe. But this should cure her (8)
Then he lowered The Times and said, ‘Lazy type, the policeman. You need help.’
‘I certainly do,’ said Henry, surprised.
‘Lazy type,’ repeated the bishop very distinctly. ‘Policeman.’
‘I’m sorry you find us lacking in energy, sir,’ said Henry.
‘I’m Joyce Cooper. I trust you had a pleasant trip. Fascist.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘System of government characterised by extreme dictatorship. Seven across.’
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