Black Maria, M.A.: A Classic Crime Novel. John Russell Fearn

I saw that the beauty of the name lies in its reversibility, especially among schoolgirls looking for an alternative to “The Beak”. Then, one can hardly dissociate a “black maria” from a police van, which is suggestive of criminals brought to book.

      Maria’s first appearance, in BLACK MARIA, M.A., took her to America, where she encountered that contrasting character “Pulp” Martin, a gentlemanly tough from the Bowery. I became so fond of him that he continued to act as Maria’s bodyguard in her later adventures, doing for her the sort of work she cannot do herself while preserving her dignity. His flamboyance, his foul cigarettes and atrocious suits, serve to offset her straight-backed frigidity and strengthen the humor which is a dominant strain in the Maria novels.

      In MARIA MARCHES ON, second of the series, the dirty work took place within the noble pile of Roseway College for Young Ladies, and I sensed the danger of limiting her activities to these precincts. Then it became obvious that the nearby village had possibilities; and so a cinema and a stretch of adjacent countryside became venues for crime, while in ONE REMAINED SEATED and THY ARM ALONE appeared another character who, by his almost incredible obtuseness, helped to underline Maria’s perspicacity. Inspector “Eyebrows” Morgan is not, I hope, typical of a village police inspector: he is, rather, a caricature of one, deliberately overdrawn to extract all the humor it is possible to extract from a story of crime.

      In her latest exploit, DEATH IN SILHOUETTE, Maria contrives to break free of both college and environs to investigate the suicide of a young man engaged to one of her former pupils. With her again, inevitably, is “Pulp” Martin; and as in all her cases, Maria uses quite conventional means to achieve her effects. Scorning the elaborate paraphernalia of the professional detective, she is always careful to stay on her own side of the fence while assisting justice to assert itself. When she cannot prove a point by forensic methods she shames the professional into doing it and so gains her end, her strong suit being the biting sarcasm she employs when the ponderous juggernaut of the law misses the mark.

      —John Russell Fearn

      CHAPTER ONE

      It was generally known among the students of Roseway College for Young Ladies that the Headmistress intended spending her summer vacation in the United States. This was decidedly intriguing. Irresponsible students spent much of the time usually devoted to soaking in French verbs trying to decide how the inexorable ruler of this South England school would react to American life.... Per­haps the most significant point of all was that Miss Maria Black, M.A., intended leaving for America before the usual time for summer holiday break-up. This suggested to various minds that there might be an easing up in the implacable discipline usually enforced from the gymnasium atop the college to the kitchens in the basement.

      The climax to the hint-and-whisper campaign came when a command was issued for a complete gathering of the school in the Assembly Hall immediately after Chapel one morning. The teachers and Housemistresses gathered on the dais and sat like so many penitents. The girls themselves kept quiet, divided between boredom and interest, awaiting Miss Black’s inevitable appearance from the rear door of the hail. This was a melodramatic entrance she could never resist.

      When later she arrived she swept in a breeze of black silk down the central aisle. The girls glanced sideways and saw that famous bun of black hair go speeding along towards the dais. A moment later Maria Black had mounted the four steps and then moved to the platform center, hands clasped in front of her, her compelling calm pervading the great room.

      Her age was fifty-five, but only the Board of Governors knew that. She stood as erect as a general surveying a conquest, the no longer graceful curves of her figure somewhat camouflaged by the sweeping dark gown she invariably wore, relieved only by the gold of a slender watch-chain. Those outside her jurisdiction would probably have considered her handsome. One got this impression from her long keen nose. Her lips were strong, but stopped short of being cruel. Indeed there were times when she had been known to smile. Chiefly though it was her eyes that always got their victim—frosty blue, unwavering.

      Had she allowed her hair to fall softly instead of scooping it back to scalping tension in an old-fashioned bun she could have possessed a mellow if rather aloof beauty.

      Suddenly she spoke—and perfectly, for diction was one of her strong points.

      “Young ladies, in two weeks you will depart for the summer vacation—but during those two weeks you will be under the control of Miss Tanby, who will become temporary Headmistress in my stead....”

      All eyes turned to Eunice Tanby—a calm, pale-faced, highly algebraical spinster who definitely knew how many times X could make rings round Y.

      “Therefore,” Maria resumed, “you will cease to regard Miss Tanby as Housemistress after today and will direct all matters of higher jurisdiction to her.”

      There was a respectful silence. Maria fingered her watch-chain and swept her eyes over the assembly.

      “I hope, young ladies, you will have an enjoyable vacation and will return here fully prepared for another term of work,” she said calmly. “You may dismiss....”

      Then, turning to Miss Tanby: “Miss Tanby, if you will be good enough to come with me.”

      The talking girls scattered immediately as Maria swept through their midst into the long, cool corridor outside the Hall. She entered her study and finally settled at her desk. Then interlocking her slender fingers she looked up at the pale-faced Housemistress who had followed her and nodded for the door to be closed.

      “Please sit down, Miss Tanby....” And as the order was obeyed Maria went on pensively, “I would like to explain to you a few necessary points regarding my immediate departure for the United States. You see, my late brother’s lawyer has summoned me. My brother died quite recently.”

      The Housemistress murmured a condolence and smiled in pale sympathy.

      “This lawyer,” Maria went on, “asks me to present myself at the earliest moment in order to clear up certain details of identity and so forth, hence my reason for leaving before the actual term end.... My brother, Miss Tanby, was no ordinary man. He—er—” Maria paused and smuggled disfavor behind a cough. “He was the first man to produce tinned broccoli.”

      “How remarkable!” Miss Tanby’s vocabulary could be devil­ishly limited at times.

      “I thought so too as first,” Maria admitted, then she got up and started to prowl the carpet. It seemed as though she was lining up her thoughts for action. Then after a long interval she spoke again.

      “My brother went to the United States at the time I became a junior teacher here. I have molded girls and he molded broccoli. The essential difference seems to be that he made a fortune whereas I— No matter! We are not here to discuss that. The fact remains that my brother is dead and there is a bequest to me which I must claim personally— But there is also something else!”

      As usual, as she sensed the dramatic abyss before her, Maria’s eyes took on a gleam. Miss Tanby saw no such possibility. As a matter of fact her mind was rather beclouded with thoughts of the rumpus, which must now be reigning in the class where she should be taking square roots.

      “My brother,” Maria resumed, with a grim tightening of the lips, “committed suicide. I tell you this because the details arc bound to leak out sooner or later into the Press, and if there should be any reflection upon me you will have the good sense to counteract it. You see, my brother was by far too important a man for the affair to be dismissed lightly. I repeat, he committed suicide. That was the official verdict. But my nephew thinks it was...murder!”

      “Good heavens!” Miss Tanby exclaimed, as though murder were quite commonplace.

      “It may only be a boy’s theory, for he is but twenty-five,” Maria mused; then realizing she was leaning too far on the maternal side she went on firmly, “But if he has the vaguest ground for his assertions I shall spend every second of my vacation getting to the bottom of the problem. Mysteries intrigue me, Miss Tanby—intrigue me immense­ly. Besides, I held my brother in high esteem for his purpose and energy, and if he did not die by