Detective Mary

Chapter 42

Mr. Gardner had brought home a sample of the latest issue of Seaside Magazine, which had rightly been the topic of conversation all day at Gardner House.

I hadn't realized how efficient the magazine was!

Mary happily got the sample issue and flipped to the serialized fiction section. It was a wonderful feeling to have her work printed on paper.

Although Mary is not a person with a strong sense of ritual, and the purpose of her writing is to earn money and strive for financial independence, she still felt a strong sense of pride when her work was actually published.

As early as the confirmation of the manuscript, Editor-in-Chief Hall said that since "The Serial Killer Chess Game" was Mary's debut novel, and her creative approach was quite rare in the current literary world, there was no way to give Mary too much space without confirming the response.

The 50,000-word novel was to be published in four installments, but it was a good start.

Mary knew the contents of her novel by heart, and with a quick glance at the layout of her work, she skipped to the end, where the current serial ended, in a single glance.

At ten thousand words or so it didn't develop much of a plot. It began with a general description of the main character, Philip Luther: a famous private investigator whose life was not going so well - his wife and assistant had miscarried a year earlier due to ill health, and had been depressed ever since, eventually passing away with their unborn child.

Philip Luther, who was very much in love with his wife, was so devastated that he didn't take on any cases for a whole year, and was either addicted to alcohol or suffered from insomnia and sighs all day long. A close friend of his, who was a pastor, couldn't stand it, so he invited him to his parish for a break.

Philip Luther's mood didn't improve much when he arrived. He still hangs out in the local tavern, which is where the main plot of the novel begins.

He is approached by an extremely tall and oppressive laborer, who warmly speaks to Luther and calls him by name.

Surprised, Luther chatted with the worker. He said his name was Edmund, and in the course of conversation, Luther found him to be knowledgeable, intelligent, and very skillful in conversation, and a very likable person. Luther and Edmund talked more and more deeply, and unknowingly developed a sense of sympathy.

Edmund said that he has always admired Luther and his wife, which hit the heartbreak of Luther, he could not help but talk to Edmund and miss his wife's feelings, Edmund's kind words of relief at the same time, but also advised him to take a case, so as to divert attention from the sadness.

Luther shook his head and said that in such a calm town, where would the case come from?

Edmund, however, gives an unexpected answer.

Mary's writing is simple - for one thing, she really isn't the type of character that likes a flashy, sophisticated style, and for another, it's to suit the tone of the narrative of Philip Luther, the "tough guy" detective.

In Luther's point of view, Edmund's "almost mute face and calm, sharp speech is very inconsistent", the worker put down the glass in his hand, and then responded in an unhurried and unhurried tone.

"You know, detective," he said in an extremely, extremely calm, to the point of near-freezing blandness, "in your line of work you more or less understand that all evil and darkness is always hidden beneath the surface of serenity, and that's true of this town as well."

"Oh?"

Philip Luther was instantly interested, and he asked, "Do you think that the town you live in harbors sin out of sight, just as London does?"

Edmund: "Yes."

Luther: "Even when my friend's parish went an entire year without reporting a single case?"

Edmund: "Not being reported only proves that it wasn't ever discovered, Detective, and that doesn't mean that no sin occurred."

Luther: "Do you think there was, a murder, or a burglary?"

Edmund: "It's a murder."

At the first-person description, Luther sniffs, and the knowledgeable detective leaps to seriousness.

"Then," he said, "I'm afraid it's only the knowledge of the identity of the murderer that makes you so certain."

"Yes, I know."

Edmund replied matter-of-factly.

He turned around, the worker's ponderous frame blotting out the lights of the bar like a small mountain, his dull demeanor hidden in the darkness, making the calm tone almost ghastly.

"The killer is me, detective."

--Then the serialization stopped for this issue.

Mary put down the magazine expressionlessly, and when she saw Jane's expectant expression, she finally couldn't strain her expression and lost her laughter.

"Why," asked Jane, a little surprised, but also immensely expectant, "was there some kind of typographical error?"

"No, no."

Mary shook her head, unable to stop laughing.

Breaking the chapter to break here, is also too much! To be reasonable, if she were the reader, it was hard to read to the end in one breath, it was the crucial moment, suddenly came an unfinished business - she was going to drop the magazine!

Hall editor-in-chief is also a bit of a human savant, know how to mobilize the curiosity of the reader.

At first, Mary was worried that her new serial would have no feedback and would not attract any readers. But now that she had gotten her hands on the magazine herself, she had slightly regained her confidence.

The sales of Seaside Magazine weren't that bad, and the new serialization was broken at a crucial point, so it would more or less arouse the curiosity of a small number of people, right?

And after that, Mary realized that she had underestimated herself, and that there was still quite a bit of feedback on the first issue of the serial.

By the time the current issue was officially printed and appeared on the market, many readers who were curious about the new serial sent their letters in.

The old gentleman who had been a long-time serializer for Seaside Magazine had recently become unwell and decided to put his writing aside for a vacation in Belgium. That's why Editor-in-Chief Hall is on the lookout for a new author he can work with on a long-term basis. As a new author to replace a familiar face to the readers of Seaside Magazine, this "Philip Luther", naturally, has attracted a lot of attention.

Because Mary didn't want to reveal her identity, letters about The Serial Killer Chess Game were sent to the magazine and to Editor Hall's home.

Most of the letters were inquiring about how the elderly gentleman resident at the magazine was doing health-wise and what the next plans were for the serial. Editor-in-Chief Hall politely informed Mary of the situation as he handed her the letters, and urged her not to be discouraged; there would always be more interest in the novel itself.

Mary was not discouraged at all, although she did not hear that old gentleman's name in later literary history, and the novels he had written were not Mary's favorite subjects, but in the end, he was the most popular writer of Seaside Magazine, and Mary, as a junior, still had to look up to him.

Not to mention, there were some letters expressing interest in the novel itself.

Thanks to the chapter breaks, many readers were asking what was going on with the abruptly ended plot, others were commenting on the new author's writing and ideas, and more than a few were--

"Listen to this seal, Mary!"

Jane opened a letter from a reader, and after reading it spoke with a joyful smile, "Look at the handwriting, it is written by a noblewoman."

Mary put down the unopened envelope in her hand and looked up curiously, "What's it say?"

"Dear Editor-in-Chief," Jane read, "I read the article 'The Serial Killer Chess Game' and now have three questions: first, what is the specific significance of the word 'serial killer' in the title? Second, who did the workers kill? And third, and the one that concerns me the most - the novel is signed by none other than the main character's name, Philip Luther - is this an autobiography, i.e., did the story actually happen?"

Finished reading, Jane put down the letter and smiled at Mary, "Hall editor-in-chief this misleading, I'm afraid everyone will be mistaken to think that Mr. Philip Luther really exists la."

I knew it.

Mary didn't mind hiding behind a pseudonym - a pseudonym that belonged to a character of her own creation. And "true story" is a great gimmick for a novel.

In the twenty-first century, it's not easy to fool readers. But this is the Victorian era, and not many authors and magazines will play this kind of commercial tactics.

"Wouldn't that be better," so Mary said rather smugly, "It would increase the readers' sense of immersion and also make them mistake the author for a man, killing two birds with one stone."

"A good idea indeed, but I would have thought ......"

"Hmm?"

Jane smiled as she put the letter down, "I would have thought that you would have based your protagonist on Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

And the character that Mary had written was much more plebeian and even a little bit more American than the cold and often reckless gentleman with his manners.

"How uninteresting that would be," she said, "and wouldn't it be a waste of effort for me to assume a pen name when everyone could tell at a glance that the protagonist was Mr. Holmes, and with a little inquiring could find out about me?"

"...... You have a point."

Not intending to publish under her real name per se, Mary's reasoning persuaded Jane.

But really, the underlying reason was that the task of recounting the exploits of Sherlock Holmes' detective work was Dr. Watson's. Even though the nerdy doctor has yet to show up, Mary doesn't intend to take his job, she wants to prove herself.

Dr. Watson, in addition to being Holmes' best friend and the detective's biographer, is also a doctor, which means that he can work independently, decide his own destiny, and is an independent, able-bodied gentleman.

Mary is also willing to help Mr. Holmes and be his friend, but Mary does not want to be dependent on him.

It was Mary's own business to write her own stories and earn money for them, and step by step to become financially independent. It is true that she admires Mr. Holmes, but what attracts her is the detective's extraordinary intelligence and independence from the times.

Learning from the god, toward him, and strive to stand in the same position with him, is the right way to follow the star! Precisely because of this, she can not rely on their own time and space travelers to take advantage of the small, as without Mr. Holmes has no value of the existence of the small followers.

And now, it was finally a good start.

"With the first serial published," she mused, "it's time for me to organize my ideas for the next story."

"Circus?"

Jane's eyes lit up.

Apparently being a lady, Jane preferred less gory, new and bizarre sounding stories to sensationalized murders, "You'll have to think about it then, I'm curious to see what else is going on in your head."

"If I had an idea," Mary beamed, "you'd be the first to know!"

It s just that Mary doesn ...... actually have any ideas now.

Murder can refer to modern cases, it's not so easy to write about burglary. Besides, Mary is also considering choosing a marginalized group of Victorians, if one is not handled well it is troublesome.

As an unmarried squire's daughter, she can't even see the realities of the real world with her own eyes, let alone come into contact with marginalized groups.

For Mary, the dark side of this society is like another world that is not connected to her environment.

However, after coming to London, she already has a precious bridge between the two worlds.

--On the morning of the following day, this "bridge," the red-haired Irish girl, Miss Mary Morstan, was led by her maid into the mansion of Mr. and Mrs. Gardner.

She was still in the same patched garments, and her pretty face was hidden beneath the rustic dress. Miss Morstan lingered delicately in the kitchen, refusing to take another step forward, lest the dirt on her shoes soil the carpets in the mansion.

"Miss Mary."

But there was nothing in Miss Morstan's countenance that suggested any inferiority for her poverty; on the contrary, it was overflowing with ill-concealed gaiety.

"Hamp he withdrew the charge against Henry Decker," she said sincerely, "and we want to invite you to the celebration!"