The Whole Art of Detection: Lost Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes

by Lyndsay Faye Narrated by Simon Vance

Overview

Internationally bestselling author Lyndsay Faye became enamored with tales of Sherlock Holmes and his esteemed biographer Dr. John Watson as a child, and later, began spinning these quintessential characters into her own works of fiction-from her acclaimed debut novel, Dust and Shadow, which pitted the famous detective against Jack the Ripper, to a series of short stories for the Strand Magazine, whose predecessor published the very first Sherlock Holmes short story in 1891.


In "The Lowther Park Mystery," the unsociable Holmes is forced to attend a garden party at the request of his politician brother and improvises a bit of theater to foil a conspiracy against the government. "The Adventure of the Thames Tunnel" brings Holmes's attention to the baffling murder of a jewel thief in the middle of an underground railway passage. With Holmes and Watson encountering all manner of ungrateful relatives, phony psychologists, wronged wives, plaid-garbed villains, and even a peculiar species of deadly red leech, The Whole Art of Detection is a must-read for Sherlockians and any fan of historical crime fiction with a modern sensibility.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Audio

★ 04/24/2017
Actor Vance’s reading of Faye’s expertly rendered collection of “lost” Sherlock Holmes adventures is a delight for any fan of the Great Detective. Set in chronological order, the 15 stories compiled in this anthology cover Holmes from the beginning of his career, before taking up residence at 221B Baker Street, to the 20th century. Along the way he solves cases of theft, deceit, blackmail, and, of course, murder most foul. Vance impeccably captures the tone of these tales of crime and deduction. His characterizations are faultless: Watson sounds sincere, stalwart, and true. Vance keeps Holmes analytical, sardonic, and cool, for the most part, but does not miss any opportunity to show the more human side of the detective, something that is often lacking in other pastiches. But it is Vance’s ability to portray the strong friendship between the two that listeners will remember. A Mystery Press hardcover. (Mar.)

Publishers Weekly

★ 01/02/2017
Edgar-finalist Faye, whose debut, Dust and Shadow (2009), was one of the better novel-length pastiches pitting Sherlock Holmes against Jack the Ripper, presents pitch-perfect Watsonian narration in 13 of the 15 tales in this outstanding collection; the other two are told from Holmes’s perspective. The stories are divided into four chronological sections: the first predates the Holmes-Watson partnership; the second covers the period before Reichenbach; the third dates to after Holmes’ resurrection; and the fourth treats the pair’s later years sleuthing together. Most take Conan Doyle’s tantalizing references to untold tales as their starting point, as in “Notes Regarding the Disappearance of Mr. James Phillimore,” which deals with a man who vanished after returning home to retrieve his umbrella. All impressively add psychological depth to the friendship, plausibly exploring personal dynamics in the wake of traumas such as the loss of Watson’s wife and Holmes’s apparent return from the dead, in a way that will resonate especially with fans of the BBC’s Sherlock. Agent: Erin Malone, William Morris Endeavor. (Mar.)

From the Publisher

Praise for The Whole Art of Detection:

“One of the best examples of [Sherlock Holmes pastiche] that this die-hard Sherlockian has encountered . . . Faye perfectly captures the tone and spirit of the Conan Doyle originals.”—Adam Woog, Seattle Times

“A great pastiche requires an uncanny ear for Watson’s voice as well as a talent for a compelling story. Fortunately, Lyndsay Faye has plenty of both gifts, as she already proved in her near-perfect Dust and Shadow. For those who despair that Arthur Conan Doyle only gave us 60 stories of Holmes, rejoice! Here are 15 more treasures!”—Leslie S. Klinger, editor of The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes

“The Whole Art of Detection is a great look at the Victorian world and the criminal goings on that gave us Sherlock. The London of the late 19th Century is awash with would be criminal masterminds who must be contained. It’s a great look at the London of Holmes and the threats that emerge from an active criminal underground.”—Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, author of Mycroft Holmes

“As full of wit as it is of twists, The Whole Art of Detection is a clever collection of deeply satisfying stories that capture the essence of Doyle’s work while marking an impressive addition to the Holmes canon.”—Graham Moore, author of The Sherlockian and The Last Days of Night

“The Whole Art of Detection belongs on the top shelf with the very best of Doyle's Holmes stories. Author Faye has captured the language, locutions and inventiveness of the original tales as well or better than any author I can think of it. It is absolutely essential reading for any—and every—aficionado who cherishes the real thing.”—Nicholas Meyer, author of The Seven-Per-Cent Solution

“A new Lyndsay Faye book is always noteworthy but for those Sherlockians among us who take our pastiches seriously, The Whole Art of Detection is a special cause for celebration. Faye’s mastery of Watson’s narrative voice and skilled plotting are, at this point, to be expected; as is her period research, which manages to be dazzling and unobtrusive at the same time. But it’s how she treats the Holmes/Watson relationship that is unique. The humor, the familiarity, the deep affection, the occasional arguments and hurt feelings—Lyndsay Faye is matchless at rendering the very human people at the center of the most famous partnership in fiction. Truly, The Whole Art of Detection is a textbook of friendship.”—Curtis Armstrong

“If Lyndsay Faye’s byline weren’t on the cover, readers might deduce that the Sherlock Holmes mysteries in The Whole Art of Detection actually came from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Her 15 short stories expertly re-create the style and substance of the originals in every way.”—Star-Telegram (Fort Worth, TX)

“Terrific . . . The feat that Lyndsay Faye has pulled off with The Whole Art of Detection is nothing short of amazing . . . It's not so much that she’s paying tribute to Sherlock Holmes, but more like she’s directly channeling the spirit of the late, great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”—Bookreporter

“Edgar-finalist Faye . . . presents pitch-perfect Watsonian narration . . . [An] outstanding collection . . . All impressively add psychological depth to the friendship, plausibly exploring personal dynamics in the wake of traumas such as the loss of Watson’s wife and Holmes’s apparent return from the dead, in a way that will resonate especially with fans of the BBC’s Sherlock.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Faye’s wonderful collection of pastiches is rooted in a little-understood fact about the Holmes canon: the stories are not about Holmes; they’re about Watson observing Holmes . . . There are mysteries here and razzle-dazzle deductions . . . but the real attraction is the power of these 15 stories to make the originals glow even brighter. For Holmesians to read, then treasure.”—Booklist (starred review)

“The impressively varied puzzles not only provide the detective the chance to display his famed powers of deduction, but increasingly humanize Holmes by putting him more and more on the side of the angels, giving him the chance to free women from perilous unions and save innocents from deception and fraud. Faye also restores Watson to Holmes' side and allows the relationship between the detective and his biographer to mature and mellow without altering either man's essential character. It's refreshing to see Holmes be Holmes. Fans and neophytes alike should cheer Faye's reinvigoration of Conan Doyle's hero and his panoramic world.”—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Purely delightful for fans of the original adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson . . . These capers are as entertaining as the originals, but even more wonderful is the new depth Faye brings to the characters—and their complicated and exceptional friendship.”—Shelf Awareness

“Faye’s prose seduces readers with familiar cadence and beautiful imagery, all while briskly unraveling story after story with clever plots and colorful characters . . . The Conan-Doyle touch is in full bloom in The Whole Art of Detection. Faye has a true gift for style and a fun eye for story . . . Throughout, the writing shines. Faye’s effortless prose mirrors Conan Doyle’s poetic sensibility and his flowing, elongated sentence style.”—New York Journal of Books

“Sherlockians will be delighted, as will Faye’s many fans.”—Library Journal

“All [15 tales] have the distinctive style and creativity of Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories. It is a book Sherlock Holmes devotees will want to savor with small samplings.”—Mystery Scene“Readers will delight in these beautifully told tales about the beloved duo of Holmes and Watson, and will surely find themselves returning to this collection again and again.”—Bookish“A stunning collection . . . Faye expertly channels Watson’s voice as official biographer of the famous detective, and this collection would not be out of place among the very best stories of Sherlock Holmes . . . Lyndsay Faye’s wit blends charmingly with Conan Doyle’s style, bringing a new voice to the timeless tales of Sherlock Holmes . . . Absolutely a must read for anyone with an interest in Sherlock Holmes or mysteries set in Victorian London.”—Criminal Element

“A thrilling collection for Sherlock fans . . . Faye easily captures the essence of Holmes and Watson, both in voice and style.”—BookPage

“Faye has a grasp of Watson and Holmes’ partnership that few authors manage to bring to life on the page in quite the same way . . . An amazing collection.”—John H. Watson Society

“When you combine a gifted storyteller and a penchant for authentic pastiches, you produce a book such as Faye’s latest . . . Well worth reading.”—Canadian Holmes

“This short story collection . . . truly has all the wit and intrigue that you would expect from Holmes.”—Crime by the Book

Library Journal

11/01/2016
Faye (Jane Steele), who first wrote about legendary sleuthing duo John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in her debut novel, Dust and Shadow, here collects 15 of her best Holmes-inspired stories. Spanning the breadth of the detective's celebrated career, these pieces find him rubbing shoulders with bogus beggars, avaricious offspring, jewel thieves, and all manner of scoundrels. Devoted fans might recognize many stories from previous publication in the Strand magazine, but "The Adventure of the Thames Tunnel" and "The Adventure of the Mad Baritone" are exciting new works. VERDICT Sherlockians will be delighted, as will Faye's many fans. A nice companion to The Big Book of Sherlock Holmes Stories, edited by Otto Penzler. [See Prepub Alert, 9/19/16; library marketing.]—Liv Hanson, Chicago

Kirkus Reviews

★ 2016-12-19
Seasoned Sherlock-ian Faye (Jane Steele, 2016, etc.) adds two new stories to 13 she's previously published to give a synoptic overview of the career of the famed consulting detective.Few fictional characters have been reimagined as freely as Sherlock Holmes. The iconic Victorian has been transported to Greece, India, Brazil, Tibet, Japan, and the American prairie, regressed back to his teens, turned into a woman, and played minor roles in a host of novels, including NBA star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar's Mycroft Holmes. But rather than extracting Holmes from the reality of Victorian England, Faye returns the detective to his Baker Street flat and provides a steady stream of conundrums to feed his agile brain. Before him parades humanity in all its pride and pathos. A suspicious husband seeks to explain his wife's sudden aversion to her jewelry. A taxidermist suffers the loss of a precious gem. An engaged couple claim they can use electric currents to communicate with the dead. A deranged opera singer believes he's been kidnapped repeatedly from Hyde Park and returned to Covent Garden. The impressively varied puzzles not only provide the detective the chance to display his famed powers of deduction, but increasingly humanize Holmes by putting him more and more on the side of the angels, giving him the chance to free women from perilous unions and save innocents from deception and fraud. Faye also restores Watson to Holmes' side and allows the relationship between the detective and his biographer to mature and mellow without altering either man's essential character. It's refreshing to see Holmes be Holmes. Fans and neophytes alike should cheer Faye's reinvigoration of Conan Doyle's hero and his panoramic world.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940171389703
Publisher:	HighBridge Company
Publication date:	03/07/2017
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

The Case of Colonel Warburton's Madness

My friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes, while possessed of one of the most vigorous minds of our generation, and while capable of displaying tremendous feats of physical activity when the situation required it, could nevertheless remain in his armchair perfectly motionless longer than any other human being I have ever encountered. This skill passed wholly unrecognized by its owner. I do not believe he held any intentions to impress me so, nor do I think the exercise was, for him, a strenuous one. Still, I maintain the belief that when a man has held the same pose for a period exceeding three hours, and when that man is undoubtedly awake, that same man has accomplished an unnatural feat.

I turned away from my task of organizing a set of old journals that lead-grey afternoon to observe Holmes yet perched with one leg curled beneath him, firelight burnishing the edges of his dressing gown as he sat with his head in his hand, a long-abandoned book laid upon the carpet. The familiar sight had grown increasingly unnerving as the hours progressed. It was with a view to ascertain that my friend was still alive that I went so far against my habits as to interrupt his reverie.

"My dear chap, would you care to take a turn with me? I've an errand with the boot-maker down the road, and the weather has cleared somewhat."

I do not know if it was the still-ominous dark canopy that deterred him or his own pensive mood, but Holmes merely replied, "I require better distraction just now than an errand which is not my own and the capricious designs of a March rainstorm."

"What precise variety of distraction would be more to your liking? I inquired, a trifle nettled at his dismissal.

He waved a slender hand, at last lifting his dark head from the upholstery where it had reclined for so long. "Nothing you can provide me. It is the old story — for these two days I have received not a shred of worthwhile correspondence, nor has any poor soul abused our front doorbell with an eye to engage my services. The world is weary, I am weary, and I grow weary with being weary of it. Thus, Watson, as you see I am entirely useless myself at the moment, my state cannot be bettered through frivolous occupations."

"I suppose I would be pleased no one is so disturbed in mind as to seek your aid, if I did not know what your work meant to you, I said with greater sympathy.

"Well, well, there is no use lamenting over it."

"No, but I should certainly help if I could."

"What could you possibly do? he sniffed. "I hope you are not about to tell me your pocket watch has been stolen, or your great-aunt disappeared without trace."

"I am safe on those counts, thank you. But perhaps I can yet offer you a problem to vex your brain for half an hour."

"A problem? Oh, I'm terribly sorry — I had forgotten. If you want to know where the other key to the desk has wandered off to, I was given cause recently to test the pliancy of such objects. I'll have a new one made —"

"I had not noticed the key, I interrupted him with a smile, "but I could, if you like, relate a series of events which once befell me when I was in practice in San Francisco, the curious details of which have perplexed me for years. My work on these old diaries reminded me of them, and the circumstances were quite in your line."

"I suppose I should be grateful you are at least not staring daggers at my undocketed case files, he remarked.

"You see? There are myriad advantages. It would be preferable to venturing out, for it is already raining again. And should you refuse, I will be every bit as unoccupied as you, which I would also prefer to avoid. I did not mention that if he remained a statue an instant longer, the sheer eeriness of the room would force me out of doors.

"You are to tell me a tale of your frontier days, and I am to solve it? he asked blandly, but the subtle angle of one eyebrow told me he was intrigued.

"Yes, if you can."

"What if you haven't the data?"

"Then we shall proceed directly to the brandy and cigars."

"It's a formidable challenge. To my great relief, he lifted himself in the air by his hands and crossed his legs underneath him, reaching after he had done so for the pipe lying cold on the side table. "I cannot say I've any confidence it can be done, but as an experiment presented to the specialist, it has a certain flair."

"In that case, I shall tell you the story, and you may pose any questions that occur to you."

"Take care that you begin at the beginning, Watson, he admonished me sternly, settling himself into a comfortable air of resigned attention. "And provide me with as many details as you can summon up."

"It is quite fresh in my mind again, for I'd set it down in the volumes I was just mulling over. As you know, my residence in America was relatively brief, but San Francisco lives in my memory quite as vividly as Sydney or Bombay — an impetuous, thriving town nestled among the great hills, where the fogs are spun from ocean air and the pale amber light refracts from Montgomery Street's countless glass windows. It is as if all the men and women of enterprise across the globe determined they should have a city of their own, for the Gold Rush built it and the Silver Lode built it again, and now that they have been linked by railroad with the Eastern states, the populace believes quite rightly that nothing is impossible. One sees quite as many nations and trades represented as in London, all jostling each other into a thousand bizarre coincidences, and you would not be surprised to find a Chinese apothecary wedged between a French milliner and an Italian wine merchant.

"My practice was based on Front Street in a small brick building, near a number of druggist establishments, and I readily received any patients who happened my way. Poor or well-off, genteel or ruffianly, it made no difference to a boy in the first flush of his career. I'd no long-established references, and for that reason no great clientele, but it was impossible to feel small in that city, for they so prized hard work and optimism that I anticipated sudden successes lay every moment round the next corner.

"One hazy afternoon, as I'd no appointments and I could see the sun lighting up the masts of the ships in the Bay, I decided I'd sat idle long enough, and set out for a bit of exercise. It is one of San Francisco's peculiar characteristics that no matter in what direction one wanders, one must encounter a steep hill, for there are seven of them, and within half an hour of walking aimlessly away from the water, I found myself striding up Nob Hill, staring in awe at the array of houses.

"'Houses,' in fact, is rather a misnomer; they call it Nob Hill because it is populated by mining and railroad nabobs, and the residences are like something from the reign of Ludwig the Second or Marie Antoinette. Many are larger than our landed estates, but all were built within ten years of the time I arrived. I ambled past a Gothic near-castle and a Neo-Classic mansion only to spy an Italianate villa across the street, each making an effort to best all the others in stained glass, columns, and turrets. The neighborhood —"

"Was a wealthy one. Holmes sighed, hopping out of his chair to pour two glasses of claret.

"And you would doubtless have found that section of town appalling. As he handed me a wineglass, I smiled at the thought of my Bohemian friend eyeing those pleasure domes with cool distaste. "There would have been others more to your liking, I think. Nevertheless, the villa was a marvel of architecture, and as I neared the crest of the hill, I stopped to take in the view of the Pacific.

"Standing there watching the sun glow orange over the waves, I heard a door fly open, and turned to see an old man hobbling frantically down a manicured path leading to the street. The mansion he'd exited was built more discreetly than most, vaguely Grecian and painted white. He was very tall — quite as tall as you, my dear fellow — but with shoulders like an ox. He was dressed in a decades-old military uniform, with a tattered blue coat over his grey trousers, and a broad red tie and cloth belt, his silvery hair standing out from his head as if he'd just stepped from the thick of battle.

"Although he cut an extraordinary figure, I would not have paid him much mind in that mad metropolis had not a young lady rushed after him in pursuit, crying out,'Uncle! Stop, please! You mustn't go, I beg of you!' "The man she'd addressed as her uncle gained the curb not ten feet from where I stood and then all at once collapsed onto the pavement, his chest no longer heaving and the leg which had limped crumpled underneath him.

"I rushed to his side. He breathed, but shallowly. From my closer vantage point, I could see that one of his limbs was false, and that it had come loose from its leather straps, causing his fall. The girl reached us not ten seconds later, gasping for breath even as she made a valiant effort to prevent her eyes from tearing.

"'Is he all right?' she asked me.

"'I think so,' I replied,'but I prefer to be certain. I am a doctor, and would be happy to examine him more carefully indoors.'

"'I cannot tell you how grateful we would be. Jefferson!' she called to a tall black servant hurrying down the path. 'Please help us get the colonel inside.' "Between the three of us, we quickly established my patient on the sofa in a cheerful, glass-walled morning room, and I was able to make a more thorough diagnosis. Apart from the carefully crafted wooden leg, which I reattached more securely, he seemed in perfect health, and if he were not such a large and apparently hale man I should have imagined that he had merely fainted.

"'Has he hurt himself, Doctor?' the young lady asked breathlessly.

"Despite her evident distress, I saw at once she was a beautiful woman, with a small-framed figure and yet a large measure of that grace which goes with greater stature. Her hair was light auburn, swept away from her creamy complexion in loose waves and wound in an elegant knot, and her eyes shone golden brown through her remaining tears. She wore a pale blue dress trimmed with silver, and her ungloved hand clutched at the folds in her apprehension. She — my dear fellow, are you all right?"

"Perfectly, Holmes replied with another cough which, had I been in an uncharitable humor, I would have thought resembled a chuckle. "Do go on."

"'This man will be quite all right once he has rested,' I told her. 'My name is John Watson.'

"'Forgive me — I am Molly Warburton, and the man you've been tending is my uncle, Colonel Patrick Warburton. Oh, what a fright I have had! I cannot thank you enough.'

"'Miss Warburton, I wonder if I might speak with you in another room, so as not to disturb your uncle while he recovers.'

"She led me across the hall into another tastefully appointed parlor, this one decorated with paintings of desert landscapes I thought must have depicted the American South, and fell exhaustedly into a chair. I hesitated to disturb her further, and yet I felt compelled to make my anxieties known.

"'Miss Warburton, I do not think your uncle would have collapsed in such a dramatic manner had he not been under serious mental strain. Has anything occurred recently which might have upset him?'

"'Dr. Watson, you have stumbled upon a family embarrassment,' she said softly. 'My uncle's mental state has been precarious for some time now, and I fear recently he — he has taken a great turn for the worse.'

"'I am sorry to hear it.'

"'The story takes some little time in telling, but I will ring for tea, and you will know all about it. First of all, Dr. Watson, I live here with my brother Charles and my uncle the colonel. Apart from Uncle Patrick, Charles and I have no living relatives, and we are very grateful to him for his generosity. Uncle made a great fortune in shipping during the early days of California statehood. My brother is making his start in the photography business, and I am unmarried, so living with the colonel is for the moment a very comfortable situation.'

"'You must know that my uncle was a firebrand in his youth, and saw a great deal of war as a settler in Texas, before that region was counted among the United States. The pitched fighting between the Texians — that is, the Anglo settlers — and the Tejanos so moved him that he joined the Texas Army under Sam Houston, and was decorated several times for his valor on the field, notably at the Battle of San Jacinto. Later, when the War Between the States began, he was a commander for the Union, and lost his leg during the Siege of Petersburg. Forgive me if I bore you.'

"'Not at all.'

"'From your voice, I do not think you are a natural-born American,' she added with a smile.

"'Your story greatly interests me. Is that his old Texas uniform he wore today?' I asked.

"'Yes, it is,' she replied as a flicker of pain distorted her pretty face.' He has been costuming himself like that with greater and greater frequency. The affliction — for I do not know what else to call it — began several weeks ago. Indeed, I believe the first symptom took place when he changed his will.'

"'How so? Was it a material alteration?'

"'Charlie and I had been the sole beneficiaries,' she replied, gripping a handkerchief tightly. 'But now, his entire fortune will be distributed amongst various war charities. Texas War for Independence charities, Civil War charities. He is obsessed with war,' she choked, and then hid her face in her hands.

"I was already moved by her story, Holmes, but the oddity of the colonel's condition intrigued me still further.

"'What are his other symptoms?' I queried when she had recovered herself.

"'After he changed his will, he began seeing the most terrible visions in the dark. Dr. Watson, he claims in truly passionate language that he is haunted. He swears he saw a fearsome Tejano with a pistol and a whip threatening a white woman, and on another occasion he witnessed the same apparition using a bayonet to slaughter one of Houston's men. That is what so upset him, for only this morning he insisted he saw a murderous band of ghosts brandishing swords and torches, with the identical Tejano at their head. My brother believes that we have a duty as his family to remain and care for him, but I confess Uncle frightens me at times. If we abandoned him, he would have no one save his old manservant. Sam Jefferson served the colonel for many years — as far back as Texas, I believe — and when my uncle built this house, Jefferson became the head butler.'

"She was interrupted in her narrative as the door opened and the man I knew at once to be her brother stepped in. He had the same light brown eyes as she, and fine features, which twisted into a question at the sight of me.

"'Hello, Molly. Who is this gentleman?'

"'Charlie, it was horrible,' she cried, running to him. 'Uncle Patrick tore out of the house and collapsed. This is Dr. John Watson. He has been so helpful and sympathetic that I was telling him all about Uncle's condition.'

"Charles Warburton shook my hand readily. 'Very sorry to have troubled you, Doctor, but as you can see, we are in something of a mess. If Uncle Patrick grows any worse, I hate to think what —'

"Just then a great roar echoed from the morning room, followed by a shattering crash. The three of us rushed into the hallway and found Colonel Warburton staring wildly about him, a vase broken into shards at his feet.

"'I left this house once,' he swore, 'and by the devil I will do it again. It's full of vengeful spirits, and I will see you all in Hell for keeping me here!'

"The niece and nephew did their utmost to calm the colonel, but he grew even more enraged at the sight of them. In fact, he was so violently agitated that only Sam Jefferson could coax him, with my help, toward his bedroom, and once we had reached it, the colonel slammed the door shut in the faces of his kinfolk.

"By sheer good fortune, after some cajoling I persuaded him to take a sedative, and when he fell back in a daze on his bed, I stood up and looked about me. His room was quite Spartan, with hardly anything on the white walls, in a simple style I supposed was a relic of his days in Texas. I have told you that the remainder of the house also reflected his disdain for frippery. The wall-facing bed rested under a pleasant open window, and as it was on the ground floor, one could look directly out at the gardens after turning about and blinking oneself awake.

"I had turned to rejoin my hosts when Sam Jefferson cleared his throat behind me.

"'You believe he'll be all right, sir?'

"He spoke with the slow, deep tones of a man born on the other side of the Mississippi. I had not noticed it before, but a thick knot of scarring ran across his dark temple, which led me to believe he had done quite as much fighting in his youth as his employer — or worse, been somehow brutalized during the period before the harrowing conflict which ripped the nation asunder to end the slave trade.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "The Whole Art of Detection"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Lyndsay Faye.
Excerpted by permission of Grove Atlantic, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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