”Mr Campion sat in the armchair before the greying fire while Poins, the Red Setter, sat on the rug and sniffed dubiously at a holly berry which had fallen from the bough over the mantelshelf. They were both upset and preoccupied.
Amanda was stamping about upstairs, they could hear her heels sounding crisply on the oak boards. The scorch mark on the plaster between the ceiling beams remained in evidence of the evening's disaster. The flame had seared it when Mr Campion had driven a four inch nail through the new house-wiring in a poor if honest attempt to hang up a bunch of mistletoe under which to kiss his wife. The mistletoe lay in the waste-paper basket where he had thrown it after the lady amateur electrician had ceased to speak her mind and had stalked off to mend the fuses.
It was after half-past eleven o'clock on Christmas Eve and although the lights had come back, Amanda had not. In view of what she had said before she went, Poins wondered if she ever would and so, he feared, did Mr Campion.”
Har du läst någon av Margery Allinghams deckare om Albert Campion?
Som så många deckare är böckerna rätt otroliga, men personligen gillar jag den sortens fantastiska handlingar eftersom det gör böckerna mindre otäcka.
”Word in Season. A Story for Christmas” är en mycket kort berättelse — bara fem sidor.