I was sent The Invisible Host (1930) by husband-and-wife authors Gwen Bristow and Bruce Manning the other day, a review copy from Dean Street Press. It isn’t actually released until 6 December, but I couldn’t resist tearing into it straight away – and read all 186 pages at a breakneck speed today, stopping only, reluctantly, for work.
And what made me so furiously keen to read it? Well, that enigmatic line on the cover: ‘Was it the inspiration for Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None?’
It’s kept as a question because there’s no way of knowing if Christie knew the novel, or the play and film that were adapted from it before And Then There Were None was penned. But there are certainly extremely striking similarities.
In the opening chapter, eight people receive the same mysterious telegram:
CONGRATULATIONS STOP PLANS AFOOT FOR SMALL SURPRISE PARTY IN YOUR HONOR BIENVILLE PENTHOUSE NEXT SATURDAY EIGHT O’CLOCK STOP ALL SUB ROSA BIG SURPRISE STOP MAINTAIN SECRECY STOP PROMISE YOU MOST ORIGINAL PARTY EVER STAGED IN NEW ORLEANS – YOUR HOST
Each has their own suspicions about who might have arranged the party – and each of these other people also happens to be a guest. There is a famed actress, a noted doctor, a dodgy lawyer, a society hostess, a clubman, a writer – so on and so on. Each has a reason to despise one of the others there. Each doesn’t question that a party would be held in their honour.
But – much like And Then There Were None – they are in for a nasty surprise. Once they arrive in the penthouse, the exit is sealed and a radio soon starts playing. Their invisible host has a message for them:
”Ladies and gentlemen, you must be tired of gatherings at which you hear only the soft bubbling of elegant effervescence. The ideal entertainment would be at once a diversion and a creative challenge. It is absurd that one should have to assume the mental attitude of a grocery clerk before he can be entertained. One has a right to look with critical curiosity at the entertainment offered him. So to-night, my friends, I invite you to play a game with me, to pit your combined abilities against mine for suitable stakes. I warn you, however, it has long been my conviction that I should be able to outplay the most powerful intellects in our city, and to-night I shall work hard to prove myself – and you. For to-night, ladies and gentlemen, you are commanded to play an absorbing game a game with death.”
As this is a New Orleans penthouse, rather than Christie’s inaccessible island, there is a bit more explanation needed about how the door is electrified and the walls are unscalable etc etc. Manning and Bristow successfully seal off all possible exits, leaving us to the enjoyment of watching eight people deal with the prospect of their entrapment and death. For, the host tells them, one of them will die each hour until there is nobody left. But if they manage to outwit him in any of the specially chosen fates, then he will let them live and will die in their place.
And – yes, reader, the characters start dying.
I shan’t spoil anymore, except to say this novel is a delicious, fast-paced, very satisfying read. I loved every moment. Some of the mechanisms involved are a little more elaborate than Christie would have allowed herself, but nothing is too outlandish. And the revelation of the murderer is guessable, if you spot the details along the way – which, of course, I didn’t. I never do.
I’ve read a fair bit of vintage crime, including Joanna Cannan’s excellent Murder Included earlier in Novellas in November – but this one might well be the most fun and best non-Christie murder mystery that I’ve ever read. A total delight from beginning to end. I’d heartily recommend that you preorder it today. And did Christie read or watch it and decide that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery? Perhaps that is the best unsolvable mystery about the whole thing…