Arthur & George

Arthur's bowling after the change of i

Afterwards, it is clear that Jean has left. He is now in a state of pure rage. He wants to take a cab straight to Jean's flat, lead her out on to the pavement, put her arm through his, and walk her past Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. And with him still in his cricket clothes. And shouting, 'I am Arthur Conan Doyle and I am proud to love this woman, Jean Leckie.' He visualizes the scene. When he stops doing so, he thinks he is ru

Rage and madness subside, leaving him with a steady, inflexible anger. He takes a shower-bath and changes, all the while swearing internally at Willie Hornung. How dare that asthmatic short-sighted part-time spin bowler raise his bloody eyebrow. At him. At Jean. Hornung, the journalist, the writer of no-account stories about the Australian outback. Totally unheard of until he purloined – with permission – the idea of Holmes and Watson; turned them upside down and made them into a pair of criminals. Arthur let him do it. Even provided the name of his so-called hero, Raffles, as in The Doings of Raffles Haw. Allowed the damned book to be dedicated to him. 'To A.C.D., this form of flattery.'

Gave him more than his best idea, gave him his wife. Literally: walked her up the aisle and handed her over to him. Made them an allowance to get started on. All right, made Co

Arthur takes a cab straight from Lord's to Kensington West. Number Nine, Pitt Street. His anger begins to subside as they cross the Harrow Road. In his head he can hear Jean telling him it was all her fault, she was the one who put her arm through his. He knows exactly the tone of self-reproach she will use, and how it will probably drive her into a wretched migraine. All that matters, he tells himself, is to minimize her suffering. His every instinct and his very manliness demand that he break down Hornung's door, drag him on to the pavement, and beat him about the brains with a cricket bat. Yet by the time the cab draws up he knows how he must behave.

He is quite calm as Willie Hornung admits him. 'I have come to see Constance,' he says. Hornung is at least sensible enough not to go in for any damn-fool bluster, or insist on being present himself. Arthur goes upstairs to Co

He is playing at Lord's again tomorrow, and he asks, no, he entreats Co

Co

No, Willie is a fine fellow, who will back him without question. Willie has a good, sharp brain, and is a very decent wicketkeeper. He may dislike golf, but at least gives the best reason Arthur has yet heard for such a prejudice: 'I consider it unsportsmanlike to hit a sitting ball.' That was good. And the one about the sprinter's error. And the one Arthur has spread most widely, which is Willie's assessment of his brother-in-law's consulting detective: 'Though he might be more humble, there is no police like Holmes.' No police like Holmes! Arthur throws himself back against the seat at the memory of the line.

The next morning, as he is preparing to leave for Lord's, a telegram is delivered. Constance Hornung must excuse herself from their lunch engagement today because she has a toothache and is obliged to go to the dentist.

He sends a note to Jean, his apologies to Lord's – 'urgent family business' for once is no euphemism – and takes a cab to Pitt Street. They will be expecting him. They know he is not the man for intrigue or diplomatic silence. You look a fellow in the eye, you speak the truth, and you take the consequences: such is the Doyle creed. Women are allowed different rules, of course – or rather, women seem to have developed different rules for themselves regardless; but even so, he does not think much of emergency dental treatment as an excuse. Its very transparency gets Arthur's dander up. Perhaps she knows this; perhaps it is designed as the plainest rebuke, like that turned-away head of hers. Co

He knows he must keep his temper. What matters is first of all Jean, and then the unity of the family. He wonders if Co

'Co

Little Willie Hornung is the same height as Arthur, a fact he occasionally forgets. And Hornung in his own house is different from the Hornung of Arthur's furious re-creation; also different from the flattering, eager-to-please Willie who darted across the te

'Arthur, this is not going to be easy. Co