The Circular Staircase

By Mary Roberts Rinehart and Otto Penzler

The first novel by Mary Roberts Rinehart, America’s queen of crime

This is the story of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous.

So says Rachel Innes, the spinster in question and one of the most remarkable heroines in American crime fiction. With the irresistible encouragement of her niece Gertrude and nephew Halsey, whom she raised after her brother’s death, Rachel ignores her better judgment and rents Sunnyside, a sprawling Elizabethan mansion owned by a bank president, for the summer.

The first night passes peacefully. In the morning, the entire staff quits. Late the third night, a sinister figure lurks outside the patio window and Rachel hears a heavy crash on the circular staircase at the east end of the house. The fourth night brings a dead body.

From there, things only get worse. The dead man turns out to be Arnold Armstrong, ne’er-do-well son of the owner of Sunnyside. Aunt Rachel has never seen him before, but Gertrude and Halsey knew him all too well. When the investigating detective directs his attention to her niece and nephew, Aunt Rachel decides to solve the murder herself—and walks straight into a web of deceit and treachery so intricate she might never find her way out.

This ebook features a new introduction by Otto Penzler and has been professionally proofread to ensure accuracy and readability on all devices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MysteriousPress.com Open Road
• Release date: May 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480493858

Mary Roberts Rinehart

Often referred to as the American Agatha Christie, Mary Roberts Rinehart was an American journalist and writer who is best known for the murder mystery The Circular Staircase—considered to have started the “Had-I-but-known” school of mystery writing—and the popular Tish mystery series. A prolific writer, Rinehart was originally educated as a nurse, but turned to writing as a source of income after the 1903 stock market crash. Although primarily a fiction writer, Rinehart served as the Saturday Evening Post’s correspondent for from the Belgian front during the First World War, and later published a series of travelogues and an autobiography. Roberts died in New York City in 1958.

Book preview

Introduction

by Otto Penzler

Mary Roberts Rinehart (1876–1958) was a bestselling author who created a new type of detective in what is now usually described as the Had-I-But-Known school, in which a pretty heroine finds endless methods of getting into dangerous situations.

Rinehart was born to a poor family in Pittsburgh; she was the daughter of Cornelia (Gilleland) Roberts and Thomas Beveridge Roberts. Her father was a dreamer and unsuccessful inventor who committed suicide just as Mary was finishing nursing school, where she met Dr. Stanley Marshall Rinehart; they were married in 1896 and had three sons within five years. After her husband’s death in 1932 she lived alone in a luxurious, eighteen-room Park Avenue apartment.

Early in their marriage Mrs. Rinehart and her husband were in debt because of unsuccessful stock market investments, so she began to write, selling forty-five stories during the first year, 1903, and earning the considerable sum of $1,842.50. The editor of Munsey’s Magazine suggested that she write a crime serial. The first story, The Man in Lower Ten, was quickly followed by The Circular Staircase, which later became the first to be published in book form.

Bestsellers ever since, Mrs. Rinehart’s mysteries are generally nonviolent, with the initial killing serving as a springboard to subsequent multiple murders. Her tales are unfailingly filled with sentimental love and humor—unusual elements in crime thrillers in the first decades of the twentieth century. Detection is less prominent than it was in the works of her predecessors, which generally concentrated on the methods of eccentric sleuths. Mrs. Rinehart’s stories involve ordinary people entangled in terrifying situations that could happen to anyone. The heroines, however, have bad judgment and dubious intelligence. Warned never—never—to enter the attic, for instance, they are certain to be found there within a few pages, to be rescued at the last instant by their lovers. These heroines often have flashes of insight—just too late to prevent additional murders.

The statement Had I but known then what I know now, this could have been avoided (or a variation of it), which often creeps into her books, gave a name to a school of writing that has produced innumerable followers.

Mrs. Rinehart’s most famous characters are Miss Letitia Tish Carberry, a slapstick figure who gets involved in wacky situations, rarely of any genuine detective nature, and Nurse Hilda Adams, an obviously autobiographical creation whom the police affectionately call Miss Pinkerton because of her uncanny ability to become embroiled in criminal activities. The first novel in which she appeared is Miss Pinkerton (1932; British title: The Double Alibi).

Mrs. Rinehart described some of her best-known books as follows: In The After House (1914), I kill three people with one axe, raising the average number of murders per crime book to a new high level; in The Red Lamp (1925; British title: The Mystery Lamp), a murder is committed every time the sinister red lamp goes out; in The Album (1933), the answer to four gruesome murders lies in a dusty album for anyone to see; in The Wall (1938), I commit three shocking murders in a fashionable New England summer colony; The Great Mistake (1940) is a murder story set in the suburbs, involving a bag of toads, a pair of trousers and some missing keys; and in The Yellow Room (1945), I used my Bar Harbor house…the yellow bedroom on the second floor, and the linen closet near the back stairs.

In The Circular Staircase (1908), Miss Cornelia Van Gorder, a middle-aged spinster, takes a summer home with her niece and nephew. A series of sinister events follows as a bank defaulter tries to retrieve stolen securities hidden in the house, until the aunt solves the terrifying mysteries. Mrs. Rinehart and Avery Hopwood adapted the novel into a play entitled The Bat (1920), which instantly became one of the most successful mystery dramas ever produced; it was translated into many languages and grossed several million dollars. In addition to the films based directly on The Bat, countless imitations, both on the stage and on the screen, have appeared. The work was novelized in 1926.

Plays and Films

By 1915 The Circular Staircase had served as the basis for a film by Selig. The Broadway production of The Bat, with Effie Ellsler as the imperious Miss Van Gorder, ran for two years; the play was revived in 1953, with Lucile Watson as Miss Van Gorder and Zasu Pitts as the maid, Lizzie. Another Rinehart play, The Breaking Point, fared less well in 1923.

In its turn, The Bat became a source for films. The first, in 1926, was a silent film that faithfully retold the events that occurred in the Long Island manor with its secret room and hidden proceeds from a bank robbery. Louise Fazenda received top billing as the dimwitted, screaming Lizzie. United Artists released a sound feature in 1930 with the title The Bat Whispers (Chester Morris, Una Merkel, DeWitt Jennings, Maude Eburne;directed by Roland West). The gloomy opening scene is a bank heist engineered by the black-shrouded archcriminal known as the Bat. Morris, playing the detective who goes to Miss Van Gorder’s house to investigate, turns to the audience after the surprise finale and requests that they do not reveal the identity of the Bat.

The Bat. Allied Artists, 1959. Agnes Moorehead, Vincent Price, Gavin Gordon, John Sutton, Darla Hood. Directed by Crane Wilbur. In this third film based on the play, Miss Van Gorder (Moorehead), an author of mysteries, moves with her maid (Lenita Lane) into a summer home, The Oaks, where strange happenings occur.

Television

The Zasu Pitts stage version of The Bat went to television in 1953 after the play closed. In the same year a handsomely mounted version of The Circular Staircase appeared on CBS’s Climax! In 1960 Helen Hayes played Cornelia opposite Jason Robards Jr. in The Bat on the Dow Hour of Great Mysteries series.

CHAPTER I

I TAKE A COUNTRY HOUSE

THIS IS THE STORY of how a middle-aged spinster lost her mind, deserted her domestic gods in the city, took a furnished house for the summer out of town, and found herself involved in one of those mysterious crimes that keep our newspapers and detective agencies happy and prosperous. For twenty years I had been perfectly comfortable; for twenty years I had had the window-boxes filled in the spring, the carpets lifted, the awnings put up and the furniture covered with brown linen; for as many summers I had said goodbye to my friends, and, after watching their perspiring hegira, had settled down to a delicious quiet in town, where the mail comes three times a day, and the water supply does not depend on a tank on the roof.

And then—the madness seized me. When I look back over the months I spent at Sunnyside, I wonder that I survived at all. As it is, I show the wear and tear of my harrowing experiences. I have turned very gray—Liddy reminded me of it, only yesterday, by saying that a little bluing in the rinse-water would make my hair silvery, instead of a yellowish white. I hate to be reminded of unpleasant things and I snapped her off.

No, I said sharply, I’m not going to use bluing at my time of life, or starch, either.

Liddy’s nerves are gone, she says, since that awful summer, but she has enough left, goodness knows! And when she begins to go around with a lump in her throat, all I have to do is to threaten to return to Sunnyside, and she is frightened into a semblance of cheerfulness—from which you may judge that the summer there was anything but a success.

The newspaper accounts have been so garbled and incomplete—one of them mentioned me but once, and then only as the tenant at the time the thing happened—that I feel it my due to tell what I know. Mr. Jamieson, the detective, said himself he could never have done without me, although he gave me little enough credit in print.

I shall have to go back several years—thirteen, to be exact—to start my story. At that time my brother died, leaving me his two children. Halsey was eleven then, and Gertrude was seven. All the responsibilities of maternity were thrust upon me suddenly; to perfect the profession of motherhood requires precisely as many years as the child has lived, like the man who started to carry the calf and ended by walking along with the bull on his shoulders. However, I did the best I could. When Gertrude got past the hair-ribbon age, and Halsey asked for a scarf-pin and put on long trousers—and a wonderful help that was to the darning—I sent them away to good schools. After that, my responsibility was chiefly postal, with three months every summer in which to replenish their wardrobes, look over their lists of acquaintances, and generally to take my foster-motherhood out of its nine months’ retirement in camphor.

I missed the summers with them when, somewhat later, at boarding-school and college, the children spent much of their vacations with friends. Gradually I found that my name signed to a check was even more welcome than when signed to a letter, though I wrote them at stated intervals. But when Halsey had finished his electrical course and Gertrude her boarding-school, and both came home to stay, things were suddenly changed. The winter Gertrude came out was nothing but a succession of sitting up late at night to bring her home from things, taking her to the dressmakers between naps the next day, and discouraging ineligible youths with either more money than brains, or more brains than money. Also, I acquired a great many things: to say lingerie for under-garments, frocks and gowns instead of dresses, and that beardless sophomores are not college boys but college men. Halsey required less personal supervision, and as they both got their mother’s fortune that winter, my responsibility became purely moral. Halsey bought a car, of course, and I learned how to tie over my bonnet a gray baize veil, and, after a time, never to stop to look at the dogs one has run down. People are apt to be so unpleasant about their dogs.

The additions to my education made me a properly equipped maiden aunt, and by spring I was quite tractable. So when Halsey suggested camping in the Adirondacks and Gertrude wanted Bar Harbor, we compromised on a good country house with links near, within motor distance of town and telephone distance of the doctor. That was how we went to Sunnyside.

We went out to inspect the property, and it seemed to deserve its name. Its cheerful appearance gave no indication whatever of anything out of the ordinary. Only one thing seemed unusual to me: the housekeeper, who had been left in charge, had moved from the house to the gardener’s lodge a few days before. As the lodge was far enough away from the house, it seemed to me that either fire or thieves could complete their work of destruction undisturbed. The property was an extensive one: the house on the top of a hill, which sloped away in great stretches of green lawn and clipped hedges, to the road; and across the valley, perhaps a couple of miles away, was the Greenwood Club House. Gertrude and Halsey were infatuated.

Why, it’s everything you want, Halsey said View, air, good water and good roads. As for the house, it’s big enough for a hospital, if it has a Queen Anne front and a Mary Anne back, which was ridiculous: it was pure Elizabethan.

Of course we took the place; it was not my idea of comfort, being much too large and sufficiently isolated to make the servant question serious. But I give myself credit for this: whatever has happened since, I never blamed Halsey and Gertrude for taking me there. And another thing: if the series of catastrophes there did nothing else, it taught me one thing—that somehow, somewhere, from perhaps a half-civilized ancestor who wore a sheepskin garment and trailed his food or his prey, I have in me the instinct of the chase. Were I a man, I should be a trapper of criminals, trailing them as relentlessly as no doubt my sheepskin ancestor did his wild boar. But being an unmarried woman, with the handicap of my sex, my first acquaintance with crime will probably be my last. Indeed, it came near enough to being my last acquaintance with anything.

The property was owned by Paul Armstrong, the president of the Traders’ Bank, who at the time we took the house was in the west with his wife and daughter, and a Doctor Walker, the Armstrong family physician. Halsey knew Louise Armstrong—had been rather attentive to her the winter before, but as Halsey was always attentive to somebody, I had not thought of it seriously, although she was a charming girl. I knew of Mr. Armstrong only through his connection with the bank, where the children’s money was largely invested, and through an ugly story about the son, Arnold Armstrong, who was reported to have forged his father’s name, for a considerable amount, to some bank paper. However, the story had had no interest for me.

I cleared Halsey and Gertrude away to a house party and moved out to Sunnyside the first of May. The roads were bad, but the trees were in leaf, and there were still tulips in the borders around the house. The arbutus was fragrant in the woods under the dead leaves, and on the way from the station, a short mile, while the car stuck in the mud, I found a bank showered with tiny forget-me-nots. The birds—don’t ask me what kind; they all look alike to me, unless they have a hall mark of some bright color—the birds were chirping in the hedges, and everything breathed of peace. Liddy, who was born and bred on a brick pavement, got a little bit down-spirited when the crickets began to chirp, or scrape their legs together, or whatever it is they do, at twilight.

The first night passed quietly enough. I have always been grateful for that one night’s peace; it shows what the country might be, under favorable circumstances. Never after that night did I put my head on my pillow with any assurance how long it would be there; or on my shoulders, for that matter.

On the following morning, Liddy and Mrs. Ralston, my own housekeeper, had a difference of opinion, and Mrs. Ralston left on the eleven train. Just after luncheon, Burke, the butler, was taken unexpectedly with a pain in his right side, much worse when I was within hearing distance, and by afternoon he was started cityward. That night the cook’s sister had a baby—the cook, seeing indecision in my face, made it twins on second thought—and, to be short, by noon the next day the household staff was down to Liddy and myself. And this in a house with twenty-two rooms and five baths!

Liddy wanted to go back to the city at once, but the milk-boy said that Thomas Johnson, the Armstrongs’ colored butler, was working as a waiter at the Greenwood Club and might come back. I have the usual scruples about coercing people’s servants away, but few of us have any conscience regarding institutions or corporations—witness the way we beat railroads and street-car companies when we can—so I called up the club, and about eight o’clock Thomas Johnson came to see me. Poor Thomas!

Well, it ended by my engaging Thomas on the spot, at outrageous wages, and with permission to sleep in the gardener’s lodge, empty since the house was rented. The old man—he was white-haired and a little stooped, but with an immense idea of his personal dignity—gave me his reasons hesitatingly.

I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, Mis’ Innes, he said, with his hand on the door-knob, but there’s been goin’s-on here this las’ few months as ain’t natchal. ’Tain’t one thing an’ ’tain’t another—it’s jest a door squealin’ here, an’ a winder closin’ there, but when doors an’ winders gets to cuttin’ up capers and there’s nobody nigh ’em, it’s time Thomas Johnson sleeps somewhar’s else.

Liddy, who seemed to be never more than ten feet away from me that night, and was afraid of her shadow in that great barn of a place, screamed a little, and turned a yellow-green. But I am not easily alarmed.

It was entirely in vain; I represented to Thomas that we were alone, and that he would have to stay in the house that night. He was politely firm, but he would come over early the next morning, and if I gave him a key, he would come in time to get some sort of breakfast. I stood on the huge veranda and watched him shuffle along down the shadowy drive, with mingled feelings—irritation at his cowardice and thankfulness at getting him at all. I am not ashamed to say that I double-locked the hall door when I went in.

You can lock up the rest of the house and go to bed, Liddy, I said severely. You give me the creeps standing there. A woman of your age ought to have better sense. It usually braces Liddy to mention her age: she owns to forty—which is absurd. Her mother cooked for my grandfather, and Liddy must be at least as old as I. But that night she refused to brace.

You’re not going to ask me to lock up, Miss Rachel! she quavered. Why, there’s a dozen French windows in the drawing-room and the billiard-room wing, and every one opens on a porch. And Mary Anne said that last night there was a man standing by the stable when she locked the kitchen door.

Mary Anne was a fool, I said sternly. If there had been a man there, she would have had him in the kitchen and been feeding him what was left from dinner, inside of an hour, from force of habit. Now don’t be ridiculous. Lock up the house and go to bed. I am going to read.

But Liddy set her lips tight and stood still.

I’m not going to bed, she said. I am going to pack up, and tomorrow I am going to leave.

You’ll do nothing of the sort, I snapped. Liddy and I often desire to part company, but never at the same time. If you are afraid, I will go with you, but for goodness’ sake don’t try to hide behind me.

The house was a typical summer residence on an extensive scale. Wherever possible, on the first floor, the architect had done away with partitions, using arches and columns instead. The effect was cool and spacious, but scarcely cozy. As Liddy and I went from one window to another, our voices echoed back at us uncomfortably. There was plenty of light—the electric plant down in the village supplied us—but there were long vistas of polished floor, and mirrors which reflected us from unexpected corners, until I felt some of Liddy’s foolishness communicate itself to me.

The house was very long, a rectangle in general form, with the main entrance in the center of the long side. The brick-paved entry opened into a short hall to the right of which, separated only by a row of pillars, was a huge living-room. Beyond that was the drawing-room, and in the end, the billiard-room. Off the billiard-room, in the extreme right wing, was a den, or card-room, with a small hall opening on the east veranda, and from there went up a narrow circular staircase. Halsey had pointed it out with delight.

Just look, Aunt Rachel, he said with a flourish. The architect that put up this joint was wise to a few things. Arnold Armstrong and his friends could sit here and play cards all night and stumble up to bed in the early morning, without having the family send in a police call.

Liddy and I got as far as the card-room and turned on all the lights. I tried the small entry door there, which opened on the veranda, and examined the windows. Everything was secure, and Liddy, a little less nervous now, had just pointed out to me the disgracefully dusty condition of the hard-wood floor, when suddenly the lights went out. We waited a moment; I think Liddy was stunned with fright, or she would have screamed. And then I clutched her by the arm and pointed to one of the windows opening on the porch. The sudden change threw the window into relief, an oblong of grayish light, and showed us a figure standing close, peering in. As I looked it darted across the veranda and out of sight in the darkness.

CHAPTER II

A LINK CUFF-BUTTON

LIDDY’S KNEES SEEMED to give away under her. Without a sound she sank down, leaving me staring at the window in petrified amazement. Liddy began to moan under her breath, and in my excitement I reached down and shook her.

Stop it, I whispered. It’s only a woman—maybe a maid of the Armstrongs’. Get up and help me find the door. She

Reviews for The Circular Staircase

[rainpebble_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Rinehart; (4*)It has been many years since my last Rinehart read and in reading The Circular Staircase, I was reminded anew how well respected and beloved Mary Roberts Rinehart was & perhaps still is in this style of the genre. Quite a remarkable read, this little book has several different, but still associated, mysteries going on at once. There is the theft of all the local Bank's securities, a couple of good & ghoulish murders to be reconciled, a kidnapping, a mysterious disappearance, a mansion that tends to be broken into nightly upsetting the entire household, among other little mysteries.Our protagonist & heroine is the spinster auntie of a young man & his sister. She has rented the manse for the season whilst her home is being remodeled & updated. Those whom the mysteries effect and those who are causing are in great part affiliated with the home owner of the house she has taken. And of course she, her niece & her nephew are affected by all of the goings on and are in the midst of the solving of the mysteries.I do enjoy a cosy mystery and I loved this one. It is a terrific book with which to cuddle into your favorite chair and spend an afternoon reading. I highly recommend it for those of you inclined to this genre.

[paradiseporch · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

by Mary Roberts Rinehart (Fiction, Mystery, Vintage) Mary Roberts Rinehart was considered the American Agatha Christie and for many years reigned as queen of the American mystery genre. The Circular Staircase was her second published book (1908) and featured the second, and last, outing of the tart-tongued middle-aged Miss Cornelia Van Gorder. Miss Van Gorder has invited her niece and nephew to accompany her to a country house for a relaxing summer. But instead of rural quiet they found murder and hijinks.Roberts Rinehart wrote with humour and a great sense of place and time, but I found it just a little too madcap.3½ stars

[samantha71020 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

How had I never heard of the awesomeness that is Mary Roberts Rinehart?? The Circular Staircase was one of the first books I downloaded for free onto my Kindle, and I only grabbed it because the author was compared to Anna Katherine Green whom wrote The Leavenworth Case (a book that I enjoyed when I read it last year). After reading The Circular Staircase I've downloaded every single book by this author that I can get my hands on. I want more! The Circular Staircase begins with Rachel Innes deciding to spend the summer in the country with her nephew and niece. Little does she know that renting Sunnyside for the summer will mean murder, mystery, and intrigue. For mysterious happenings are going on at Sunnyside and Rachel instantly finds herself a part of them. Rachel is a great main character to be narrating the story because of her dry sense of humor. I found myself laughing out loud at various points in the story thanks to her opinions and musings on everything that was happening. In fact, being able to laugh at the story while still being intrigued by the mystery was one of my favorite parts of the book! I find more and more that I love classic mysteries like this because the authors know how to spin a good tale without lots of blood and gore. Instead Rinehart created a mystery filled with atmosphere and tension as the reader wondered what could possibly be going on at the house. It made for a great read that left me wanting more! My only issue with this book is something that goes more along with the time period that the book was written. The book does have some racial undertones in it but if you take in consideration when it was written then it makes more sense as to why the author included these viewpoint into the story. I didn't care for it but obviously I wasn't born in this time period either. Anyways....Overall a really, really good read and a book that I enjoyed WAY more than I expected to. Just writing up my thoughts on this book makes me want to try more by her or grab up something by Agatha Christie. If you are ever looking for a gothic mystery novel then I think you should give this one a try. Just don't expect to be surprised by the ending. That part I could see coming from a mile away but luckily it didn't matter because I was enjoying the book too much. Highly recommended especially to mystery fans!Bottom Line: One of those books that instantly makes you add the author to your must read list!Disclosure: This was a book I downloaded for free onto my Kindle thru Amazon.

[keathpatterson · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Competent old school mystery. A few extra plot threads over the run of the mill title but not enough that I'd consider it exceptional.

[tchesney_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Very confusing! A book can have sub-plots. A mystery can have sub-mysteries. This book carried it to an extreme. I was way too confused.It was about 90 pages before I realized that the relationship of the second main character was that of maid.The author treats servants as if they are more furniture than human.One main male character was unacceptable when he was thought to be part of the working class. Once he was identified as actually being part of the upper class, he was totally acceptable.

[bookmarque · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Vintage and Retro are all the rage for some stuff like clothes and photography (Instagram?? I don’t get it, but whatever) and so I said ‘what the hell’ and downloaded this 100-year-old mystery novel onto the iPad. A review especially praised the stalwart spinster protagonist and the quaint setting and characters so I felt pretty confident I’d like it. Unfortunately, our stalwart spinster is also a raging racist and the supporting characters were pretty much there to be ordered about, worried over and despised by her in turn. I believe the correct term for her is battleaxe. I was bummed because at first her character reminded me a bit of Amelia Peabody.Some of the things about the period charmed me; like the summer house rental. An estate really, with wings, stables and a gate house, complete with servants most of whom vamoosed when things started to get hairy. The old-fashioned conveyances; a mix at this time of history (1909) of trains, horse-drawn and motorized vehicles. Not sure what a Dragon Fly is, but I suspect it’s the author’s fancy since I found nothing on the web. When women fainted (as they invariably do in novels of this sort) someone ran for some ‘stimulants’. Aunt Rachel sports ‘wrinkle eradicators’ - mysterious and painful sounding. The lights went off at midnight because the electric company shuts down at that time. Funny stuff, but try as I might, the casual racism just took the shine off things for me. I know it’s how people thought and behaved back then, but it’s jarring to read about now. While I did finish it, I didn’t race through it because it was quite put-downable. In the end I just made myself finish the silly thing. It reminded me a lot of the way Nancy Drew mysteries unfolded. We’ve got a stock bunch of characters and they end up in a place where strange things start to happen to them. Not because of them, but because of their proximity to whatever else is going on. The events that occur happen to them, but they’re not of them if you know what I mean. There’s a subplot that must be discovered. Even the clues are funny compared to how things are written these days. In this one they’re basically all physical - a pistol, a cufflink, a golf stick (not club, stick). Oh and there are funny noises inside the house and mysterious intruders no one sees or is able to capture. The antics of not just the amateurs, but also of the cops to catch these unseen villains, were hilarious. They bumbled around and tripped over one another and never so much as caught the hem of a garment, much less an actual person. Obviously there was a secret room involved, but once again no one could find it; not the good guys or the bad guys. There had to be 5 holes carved into walls before someone found it and then it was on the second try. Dopes. Nancy Drew could have totally schooled these people.In the end, while I didn’t guess the solution (I wasn’t giving it any thought actually, the story didn’t really grab me enough), I found it a bit tired. I suppose since it’s a relatively early mystery, it wasn’t a cliche when it was written, but it certainly is now. It makes Agatha Christie’s work even more astounding because in my opinion it does hold its appeal. Yes, she wrote the bulk of her novels later than this one, but the earliest ones are pretty close to this time and they hold up much better. Alas, some vintage stories just don’t maintain their appeal into the 21st century.

[kmmt48 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Mary Roberts Rinehart is one of my favorite writers from the early women writers of the early 20th century. This is a fun mystery with interesting charcters portraying the very, very wealthy class and their staff involved in a murder mystery. Rinehart was a unique legend in her time when women, especially the upper class woman, did not work and certainly did not write murder mysteries. Her books are always enjoyable, the characters sympathetic yet interesting and there is always a strong woman character to love. This is one of the better choices but my very favortie is The Yellow Room followed by the Swimming Pool. For a taste of early women mystery writers, Rinehart cannot be missed.

[richardderus · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Rating: 3.75* of fiveThe Book Report: Miss Rachel Innes, spinster of circa-1908 Pittsburgh, inheritrix of two children now relatively safely launched into adulthood, and possessor of a large automobile, determines that her town residence needs significant tarting up and, to avoid the attendant chaos and disarray, moves herself, her ladies' maid, and her now-adult charges to Sunnyside, the large and vulgar country home of a local banker. As he, his wife, and his step-daughter (note old-fashioned spelling, it is relevant) are traveling to the almost foreign climes of California, Miss Innes and entourage are left in possession of Sunnyside (a more dramatic misnomer is hard to envision) for the entire summer that renovating Miss Innes's home will require. Perfect!Not so much.Miss Innes's maid begins the descent into spookyworld. Noises, disappearing people, mysterious presences, all cause her to think Sunnyside is haunted. Hah, says the commonsensical Miss Innes, there's a rational explanation for it all. And there is. Sadly enough.When people start dying, as in "no longer sucking air," Miss Innes gets a wee tidge tense. When the homeowner's step-daughter shows up, in a state of complete collapse and her ward's evident amour for the girl makes it impossible to turf her out, Miss Innes begins a logical and determined effort to explain the bizarre happenings at Sunnyside. Amid this tough-enough assignment comes the local banker's reported death from far-off California, the revelation that he embezzled A MILLION DOLLARS!! (a Madoff-sized payday in 1908), and the disappearance of the embezzled bank's head cashier (also the amour of Miss Innes's female ward), and the impossibility of keeping good staff conspire to give good Miss Innes many a sleepless night. In the end, all is well, and the redoubtable Miss Rachel Innes possesses all the facts.My Review: God bless her cotton socks, this lady is just a blast to read about! I like formidable old dowagers. (Lady Grantham aside.) They are so *certain* of their Rightness that it's fun to watch them screw up and fail. This being fiction, the formidable old dowager in question doesn't fail, and manages not to be any more overbearing, opinionated, and adamantine than is absolutely necessary.Rinehart was a decent writer, and a decent plotter, and so the book offers pleasures in both those measures. It's not going to make the Louise Pennyites abandon the Mistress to read only Rinehart. It's over a century old, and thrills and chills come at a dramatically different pace and price in our time. But frills and furbelows aside, a good figure is a good figure, and this book has a good figure.Visit your great-grandmother's world for a while. You might surprise yourself with how much you enjoy it.

[kasthu_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The plot of The Circular Staircase is, like the staircase of the title, rather roundabout. There are a lot of elements in this novel—murder, embezzlement, robbery, and arson, just t name a few of the crimes perpetrated by the characters in this book. Rachel Innes is a rather prickly middle-aged spinster and the aunt of Gertrude and Halsey. After renting a house in the countryside one summer, in which ghosts are said to live, a man is shot dead at the foot of the house’s circular staircase. The dead man is the son of the owner of the house, and he and Jack Bailey (a friend of Halsey’s who also happens to be engaged to Getrude) may or may not have been involved in a bank scandal.Rachel, who claims that the detecting gene is in her blood, spends the course of the novel pursuing clues, most of which are red herrings. It turns out that every person involved in this story has a piece of the puzzle; and Rachel spends most of the story saying “if only I had known…” The “Had I But Known” plot is apparently pretty characteristic of Rinehart’s novels, but in this book I kept feeling that Rachel as just moving in circles, never really solving any part of the mystery until the very last minute. Also, I didn’t particularly care for the narrator of the story: Rachel is so sharp-tongued that she’s actually rude to pretty much everybody at one point or another. Mr. Jamieson, the detective, is much more likeable, but he sometimes allows Rachel to walk all over him.Mary Roberts Rinehart has been credited with coining the phrase “the butler did it”—though the phrase never appeared in any of her mystery novels. Her books were bestsellers in the United States for a long while in the early 20th century, probably because they were so readable; certainly not “high literature” in an sense of the word. The Circular Staircase is a prime example of this; but nonetheless it works well as a suspense novel.

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this Victorian "cozy". The most interesting thing is how none of the characters complied with the police - and that seemed to be o.k. The main character takes the murder weapon and then loses it and admits it all to the detective who finds it nothing more than inconvenient! Still a fun read.

[booksandscones · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

How I loved this old mystery when I read it first at age 13. It was one of the first adult mysteries I read, along with Agatha Christie and Daphne duMaurier's Rebecca. It was a natural progression from Nancy Drew and the girl detectives I loved when younger.All these years later, there are things you just can't ignore, like an uncritical young reader can. The casual racism can't be overlooked, although sadly, the author was undoubtedly just voicing the attitudes of the time. After Miss Innes's nephew buys a car, she learns to "never stop to look at the dogs one has run down. People are apt to be so unpleasant about their dogs." The implication is that if you are rich enough to buy a car in 1908, you have the right to run down anything you damn well please. These people are wealthy enough to rent a house for the summer with "22 rooms and 5 baths", which seemingly makes them unaccountable for anything they do.All that aside, I'll always have a place in my heart and on my bookshelf for The Circular Staircase, despite its faults, as it was one of the first books that started me on 50 years of reading murder mysteries.As for the Had I But Known school of detective fiction, Ogden Nash parodied that old writer's trick in his poem Don't Guess, Let Me Tell You. "Had I But Known then what I know now, I could have saved at least three lives by revealing to the Inspector the conversation I heard through that fortuitous hole in the floor."

[bzedan_2 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Our detective is a crochety old lady who doesn't care much when her nephew runs over dogs with his motor-car. She gets all tangled up in a mystery, which is inevitable because of her stubbornness and whatnot. Standard old-lady mystery stuff. Secret romances, false identities, etc.

[thorold_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Amusing as an early example of the classic type of detective story that would reach its most finished form with Christie and Sayers a couple of decades later. But rather slow-moving, even ponderous, by later standards, not only in its jokes but also in the technical development of the plot, both of which the experienced mystery reader will see coming several chapters ahead of where the author is trying to reveal them. Surprisingly, I found that the thing that interested me about it more than anything else was the use of the wealthy spinster, Miss Innes, as the viewpoint character. She's the sort of lady who would appear as a minor figure in inter-war novels, endlessly sparring with her elderly lady's-maid and fretting about the Servant Problem and mocked as a quaint survival of an earlier age. But here we see the world through her social attitudes, in which doctors, policemen and public officials are all treated as slightly superior sorts of tradesmen, who might exceptionally be permitted to use the front door...

[sturlington_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Abandoned before finishing (2014).This book was simply too dated for me to enjoy reading it. The casual racism and the "dialect" that the only black character used were particularly egregious.

[meredy_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Six-word review: Adequate but unexceptional country house mystery.Extended review:Here's an author whose work I'd never read before and was very unlikely ever to read. Her name was associated in my mind with frothy, shallow popular fiction of the sort that would be no challenge to semiliterate middle schoolers looking for an easy read for a mandatory book report. (No, I don't know where such prejudices come from. But who doesn't have them, in one flavor or another?)As it happened, I found myself waiting in my car while someone did an errand, and I needed something to read. I'd had the foresight to grab my Kindle on the way out the door. From a recently downloaded bargain collection of mysteries, I picked this one at random without even noticing the author's name.My verdict: better than expected. It read like a low-grade case of Hill House as visited by a middle-aged spinster channeling Holmes while on Victorian holiday in (I think) upstate New York. (It sounded so British that I had trouble remembering it was set in the U.S.) Wikipedia tells me that this crime melodrama is credited with being the first of the "had I but known" genre of mystery novels.It was duly creepy, with ghostly nocturnal activity, unexplained disappearances, a shocking corpse, false identities, and much, much more, not to mention a spunky heroine who forgets to tell anyone when she goes off in search of things that go bump in the night. I was sufficiently entertained to return to it over the next couple of weeks, in short bursts, and finish it up.I'm not in any hurry for more Rinehart, but in case I feel the need, there seems to be an ample assortment in the anthology. At least I know there's something mildly diverting on tap for some other waiting room stay.(Kindle edition)

[casualfriday_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

I found this classic mystery about murder in a country home mildly enjoyable, but I wouldn't read another Rinehart title. I enjoyed the protagonist's tart humor and her plucky attitude. The story included just about every mystery cliche you can think of. Perhaps they were not cliches in their time, but I couldn't help rolling my eyes. Oh, and the casual racism didn't help matters, either.

[aliceanna-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An oldie but a goodie. The story is nothing really to write home about, but the plot was clever and the protagonist was a particularly strong female so I enjoyed that.

[smik_3 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I think I may have bought this quite cheaply, seeing an opportunity to do a bit of "vintage" reading. It has been on my kindle for a few months only.At the beginning of this e-book version of THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE there is a biographical introduction to the life and works of Mary Roberts Rinehart. Here is an extract: This book is credited with having been the first mystery to use the "Had I But Known" formula. This style of mystery centers around the protagonist withholding important details until it is too late. Often this variety of tale is narrated as a flashback from the protagonist's point of view. They will withhold the special damning piece of information from the reader as well, only revealing it after the climactic moment involving the secret clue. When done well, the technique can create real suspense for the reader.I found myself remembering the phrase "Had I But Known " because once you know this was a feature of Rinehart's style, then it is certainly there.There is an almost Gothic quality to the plot lines and setting of THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE. The story is narrated by Rachel Innes, who doesn't always understand the implications of what she has observed. There are two deaths, ghostly rappings emanating from the walls and ceilings, and as the novel progresses the plot strands get increasingly complex, as if the characters have got away from the author. In fact one part of the plot resolution gives the impression of having been plucked from the air. The central plot appears to relate to the stock market crash of 1903.

[Linda Lowry · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I can’t believe how engaging and relatable I found Mary Roberts Reinhart’s book though it was written in 1908! I loved her main character’s intelligence and spirit and I intend to read everything Reinhart ever wrote. Why have I, an avid reader, not heard of this author until now I cannot understand. I can only attribute it to our American educational system’s systematic failure to acknowledge the accomplishments of women writers of the early 20th century. I should have learned of this author in my high school literature classes!

[theokester · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Having recently re-read a bit of Agatha Christie's work and also recently watched movie and TV adaptations of her things, I was intrigued when I heard of Mary Roberts Rinehart referred to as the "American Agatha Christie." I had never heard of her but figured I'd give her writing a try. A general consensus suggested that The Circular Staircase is her most well-known and lauded work so I started there.The book began (and continued) with a style and pattern that felt rather familiar when compared with other 19th and early 20th century writing. In this novel we are introduced to a wealth spinster named Miss Rachel Innes. Miss Innes has decided, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, to rent a summer home with her niece and nephew. We are quickly drawn in by her idiosyncrasies and those of the people around her, particularly her servant Liddy.Almost immediately upon arriving in the home, Miss Innes encounters strange happenings. That first night she's there, she encounters a number of strange noises from an unknown trespasser and a tumble down the circular staircase in the middle of the night. Then, the night her niece and nephew arrive, a man is mysteriously murdered at the foot of the staircase with no apparent witnesses or suspects.With a balance of pride and curiosity, Miss Innes refuses to leave the summer home and instead decides to try and unravel the mystery on her own. She doesn't seem to have a history of crime solving or any particular talents or penchant towards that profession but she lets her enthusiasm be her drive.After the excitement of the first few chapters, I felt the book settle into a bit of a dry spell. It worked its way through methodical plot and character development, keeping the reader (and Miss Innes) an arm's length (or farther) from the actual facts while presenting small glimpses of the motives of the various characters. I sometimes find it infuriating when authors hold back this sort of information, but the way it was presented here felt natural to me. Because Miss Innes is largely a stranger in the area, we are introduced to plenty of new characters and plot developments throughout the story and it makes sense that she is not privy to the information ahead of time and thus it is acceptable that the reader is similarly ignorant.Some of the mishaps and coincidences through the story felt a little predictable though I had to remind myself that this story is over 100 years old and these concepts may have been entirely unique at the time. There were also a couple of moments where I was genuinely and happily surprised by the outcome of a situation. Towards the end of the book, the pacing picked up steam again and put many of the central characters into some degree of peril which added to the suspense and engagement of the reading. The final unraveling was interesting and satisfying.I found the writing to be crisp, clean and enjoyable. It had a nice balance of 19th century English formality and early 20th century American whimsy. It was both elegant and playful. At the same time, it wasn't so engaging that I wanted to rush right out and read the rest of Rinehart's work. In some ways, it felt too similar to a lot of other things I've read and not compelling enough to differentiate it and make me yearn for more. So while I've made a mental note to keep an eye out for more writing by Rinehart, I won't be actively putting her at the top of my list.***3.5 out of 5 stars

[fernemysteryreader · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

After reading Man in the Lower Ten I researched the life of Mary Roberts Rinehart as I thought I had read some of her novels when I was in high school but couldn't remember any of the titles and wanted to know more about the author. Learning Rinehart was "an American writer, often called the American Agatha Christie, although her first mystery novel was published 14 years before Christie's first novel in 1920" was extraordinary. "Rinehart is also considered to have invented the 'Had-I-But-Known' school of mystery writing, with the publication of The Circular Staircase (1908)" so that had to be my next selection to read by this author.

The edition of The Circular Staircase that I read was Number 7 of the Dell Great Mystery Library published by Dell in June, 1957 with copyright by Mary Roberts Rinehart in 1908 and 1935. The cover design for this edition was by Push-Pin Studios. In the upper left-hand corner of the cover is the price of 35 cents. What a treasure.

With book width of 4 1/2" and book length just over 6 1/4" it feels like holding a vertical 4" x 6" index card in hand that is slightly thicker. Measurements aside it is 224 action-packed pages of suspense. As I closed the novel, it brings wonder to mind if Agatha Christie ever read any novels by Mary Roberts Rinehart. I can't wait to read another of her novels.

[Raymond Graves · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

very good

[vesper1931 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Wealthy Miss Rachel Innes rents a house for the summer in the country to spend time with her niece and nephew, Gertrude and Halsey. But strange occurrences start happening on the first night resulting in a death.
A slow paced and interesting mystery first published in 1908.

[jalenv_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Circular Staircase was Mary Roberts Rinehart's second mystery book. It has nothing to do with the classic horror/film noir movie 'The Spiral Staircase,' but it's still a very good story.Sunnyside is a large country house rented for the summer by a spinster, Rachel Innes. For 13 years she's been the guardian of her late brother's children, Halsey (now 24) and Gertrude (now 20). They're the reason she rented the house. Miss Innes assures us that she's never reproached them for that, despite what happened. It certainly was no quiet summer!The summer starts off well enough with Rachel and her servants moving to Sunnyside on May first. By May third all the servants but Liddy have left. The revolving servant problem will continue. Is the house haunted, as city born-and-bred Liddy thinks? It's 1908. There's a landline phone in the house and electricity -- but the Casanova Electric Company shuts off the power promptly at midnight. Good thing there are plenty of candles and oil lamps. Would you care to roam 22 rooms and 5 bathrooms in the dark, with just a candle, if you heard a strange rapping sound? Not I. The peace is already over by chapter 2. The first death -- murder or manslaughter? -- occurs before chapter 5. Of course the body is found at the bottom of the circular staircase. NOTES:Chapter 1: Sunnyside is described. The circular staircase is outside the cardroom. There's a door to the east veranda in the hall to the staircase.Chapter 2: Liddy finds part of a fancy cuff link on top of the linen hamper. Mention: Drummond's Spiritual Life, Joe Jefferson (actor Joseph Jefferson III, noted for his portrayal of Rip Van Winkle)

[stephanie_m-868484 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I was not all that impressed with this novel. It is my first from this author, and I had heard great things about her writing. But for some reason, I found that there were way too many things going on in this novel to let me sit back and enjoy it as I wished I could have. It seemed to be frantically racing around in its narrative, and not figuring out much. There were slightly too many characters to keep track of, or maybe I'm just a little distracted lately, I don't know. But instead of being impressed with the author's writing skills, even for the year in which it was written, I was instead eager to be done with it.
I wasn't very happy with the racist views of the author, and made note to add this to my review. If you are put off completely by an author using such slurs as "the only good Indian is a dead Indian", and referring to African American people as "darkies", and other bad references to them, then please put this novel, and it's author aside. She is of an age where this kind of thing was used widely. It's entirely disgusting, but was done at this time period. While this did not make me throw the novel against the wall, it also didn't exactly give me good views about the author. Maybe this is what had soured me against the author, but I don't think so. I think it was more of the frantic pacing, the breathless "voice" of the main character, and the whole situation therein.
3 stars, and not recommended unless you want a VERY old fashioned jaunt into an older time period, with a strange and silly mystery thrown in.

[sandylee_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Rachel Innis along with her niece and nephew rent a 20-room home for the summer. It doesn’t take long for things to go bump in the night. There are creaks and groans and footsteps and the hired help start fleeing like bats at dawn. A body is found at the foot of the staircase. The deceased is the son of the owner of the house. How did he get in? Why didn’t he knock or use his own key? Who shot him in the back? This book is one of those classics written in 1908. Reinhart wrote all stand-alone mysteries which is a shame because I found Rachel and her maid, Liddy, quite entertaining. The mystery had the slow cadence of that time period which was a bit of a struggle for a mystery fan who is used to today’s rapid fire slice and dice thrillers. There were some interesting things to learn about that time period, like how the electric company turns off the power at midnight. Reinhart has a surprising resume, having written 45 short stories in addition to her novels. THE CIRCULAR STAIRCASE was her first mystery.