The Ludovic Travers Mysteries Series

I think murder is practically a certainty. William Weddall was eccentric even in Ludovic Traver's wide experience. There was about him an aura of secrecy and subterfuge at odds with the quiet atmosphere of his estate. Hinchbrook Hall, show-place for his antiques and paintings. He had sent Travers to Paris on the seemingly pointles

Enough words and enough speed and you can get away with murder. There was something unique about the Case of the Treble Twist. It isn't often one gets a preview of a case or hovers round its fringes four years before it breaks, but that was just what happened here. The preview began the evening Ludovic Travers had a drink with Chi

"How's it going, George?" "Sheer murder." When Ludovic Travers went to Sandbeach-"the Blackpool of the South Coast"-his purpose was to investigate on behalf of an insurance company a jewel robbery at one of that lively resort's leading hotels. The victim of the robbery was Mona Dovell, the flighty wife of an elderly

"He says it's something serious. Might be murder." When the well-dressed Mrs. Wilson came into his office, her business seemed simple enough-although a little odd and mysterious for a woman of her bearing. She wanted Travers to find a missing man, who used to do a second-rate Houdini act in music halls. If Travers found her man, h

"No one could prove we had reason to suspect murder. We can afford to be thought fools. So we'll go on behaving as if such a thought never entered our minds." "I'm sorry, gents. I thought for a moment I'd been coshed." An odd sort of way in which to thank two helpful strangers after a nasty accident in a City street, and one bound

It wasn't easy to forget the frightened hostility in her face and the shrill hysteria of her voice when she'd closed and bolted the door. Who were the intruders who left bloodstains and a sapphire brooch in Paul Farrell's flat? And, since nothing was taken, why should that flat be burgled at all? That problem was only the beginnin

"You'll face two charges," I said. "One for murder and one for extortion." Ludovic Travers remembered Brian Jedmont as a photographer whose ambition outran his sense of ethics. The Broad Street Detective Agency had stopped using his services in unfortunate circumstances, and Travers was accordingly surprised when one day Jedmont t

"Death from manual strangulation after a blow that slightly fractured the skull." Ludovic Travers, private investigator, is approached by a slight acquaintance from his past, one Isabel Herne. She has seemingly fallen into the hands of a charming con-man, who has promised her the earth, including a very expensive racehorse. When t

He said he was deeply shocked to hear of Mr. Staffer's murder. I rather doubted it. Ludovic Travers had never come across a more ingenious fraud-three of them, in fact. All were perpetrated in only twenty-four hours. One was in Liverpool, the second and third in Southampton and London. The same two people posing as

Woman falls from window of flat. Doctor says killed instantly. Well, thought Ludovic Travers as he set the newspaper aside, that finally put a period to a highly unsuccessful case. The woman, a Mrs. Strand, had seemed a bit deranged when she came to him for help in locating some missing friends, but he quest led to a dead end.

"I just wanted to ask you one question." "Yes?" "Why did you lie to us about that burglar?" The Case of the Deadly Diamonds starts out as a small-scale caper for Ludovlc Travers, leading light of the Broad Street Detective Agency. The unspectacular sum of two hundred pounds had vanished mysteriously f

He hadn't died from burns or asphyxiation. His skull had been smashed in. And not simply from a fall. The good employer: yes, on the face of it, a fair description of Leonard Woode. Elderly, of independent means, cultured, considerate, his servants in his home would certainly endorse this view. Ludovic Travers struck up a chance a

Just round the corner I'd be in sight of the main entrance to the flats. And that's all I remember. That, and a tremendous pain, and a kind of flash. An urgent plea from Lady Marport to find her missing seventeen-year-old daughter plunges Ludovic Travers into Soho's dark underworld of blackmail, drugs and murder-a subterranean sea