New PDF release: A Rough Shoot
By Geoffrey Household
A vintage mystery set in Dorset after the second one international battle, packed with Household's signature motion and suspense.
An afternoon's taking pictures within the state turns out a delightful prospect to Roger Taine, a revered relatives guy with a exotic army checklist. but if he discovers a poacher on his land, he fires a caution blast that prevents the intruder useless in his tracks.
Investigating additional, Taine inadvertently uncovers a new-fascist plot which he's made up our minds to thwart. a chain of vehicle chases, aeroplane drops and cross-country scrambles sharpen the secret, however the event takes a brand new twist whilst Taine discovers that he himself is being pursued by way of the police.
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Extra info for A Rough Shoot
A cock pheasant flew up to roost in the opposite tree. The trapper in the hedge saw it, drew an air pistol from his pocket and shot it neatly down. This made me unduly angry. I wouldn’t have minded a bit if they had been local villagers out for next Sunday’s dinner, but from their clothes I knew they were not. Somehow I got it into my head that they were commercial poachers, come all the way from London or Bournemouth to supply the black market. I didn’t stop to think that, if they were, they wouldn’t be working hedgerows but would clear out some big estate where one overworked gamekeeper still managed to keep up a stock of game.
I don’t know how many secret organizations he served when it suited him–indeed I doubt if he knew himself–but one was his own, formed by him and led by him. S. man with whom they had a seven-year-old account to settle. Now, the real reason why Sandorski’s people–who, he insisted, were plain nonparty Polish officers and good Europeans–had kidnapped this brute was punishment, revenge, whatever you like to call it; and in due season they quietly dropped his weighted body into the Danube. “I am a Pole, not a judge at Nuremberg,” Sandorski said to me sharply, noticing my shocked and–now I come to think of it–hypocritical expression.
He had been silently watching and weighing all the local people who could conceivably be mixed up in any sort of violent action, and had quite rightly assumed that I was the only one. Thereupon he had at once found–or forced, rather –a common sympathy. I determined to measure out the information I would give. I had nothing to go on but liking and disapproval of him. This gallant little eccentric seemed to have a disregard for human life that was two hundred years out of date. But it could have been worse.
A Rough Shoot by Geoffrey Household