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R.E. Swartwout

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The Boat Race Murder - R.E. Swartwout
1933 UK hardcover 1st edition, 1st impression, published by Grayson & Grayson in London
A very rare and classic University Mystery
A VG book in 7/6 unclipped dustwrapper
The book is solid and tight, no lean to spine
No previous owner names, inscriptions or stamps, very light edge tan
The dust jacket has chip to top right front panel, wear to spine ends and some age tanning

R.E. Swartrwout has the best credentials to pen a detective mystery about the Oxford / Cambridge University Boat Race, as he once coxed the Cambridge crew to victory in 1930. This is the authors first mystery book and it has all the ingenuity one would expect from a young writer who, in addition to having published two books already, contributed to Punch and other papers, is responsible for the weekly cross-word puzzle in the Spectator.

It is a fortnight before the race. The Cambridge crew is at Putney and things are going badly. Nerves are on edge, jealousy and irritation rife. One morning the stroke, Alan Strayler, is missing. A search is made, and in a bathroom with the door locked on the inside, his body is discovered doubled up and pinioned face downwards in a tub of water. That was the problem that faced Inspector MacNair ; and it baffles the reader till nearly the end of the book.

A well-regarded and highly collectable University Mystery, extremely rare in jacket - never even heard of another, an absolute bargain !

For Sale at £SOLD - SORRY, CURRENTLY OUT OF STOCK (approx $SOLD) - free delivery worldwide !

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A DISMAL afternoon was closing in on the river. The tide was on the ebb, and the broad, gleaming stream swirled and eddied in a vast curve, with warehouses and factories on one side and a high, bare bank on the other, and spanned by the towering ironmongery of Hammersmith Bridge. On the stream, far in the middle, floated a solitary racing eight.

The eight was the latest product of an ancient firm of boat-builders: a brand-new ship, built on the latest scientific principles, and hewn from the same cedar log which provided that other brand-new ship which, in ten days' time, was to contend with its sister in a trial of speed from Putney to Mortlake; a fratricidal contest, since both strokes had rowed together in the Eton eight, and both crews were coached by men who had rowed together, as Old Blues, in a Leander crew of ever so long ago; and since both crews, with their coaches and presidents, were united in a last-ditch stand against the Unorthodox style of rowing; and,

finally, since both crews were indissolubly at one, with their respective universities behind them, in opposition to the theory, advanced in a certain newspaper read by no gentleman, that the Boat Race was merely capitalist dope, calculated to distract the attention of the workers from the class war. The ship, whose nose was pointed down-stream, came to rest in the middle of the river, opposite the huge bulk of the furniture repository. A long white motor-launch overtook the eight and halted a few yards away. It contained three men: the driver, a young man who sat silent at the wheel; an elderly man in an ulster and cloth cap, an experienced waterman whose task was to look after the coxswain; and, finally, a red-faced man who stood in the bows of the launch, clad in an over*- coat and a light blue cap: this was the coach. "Cox, you little blighter!" shouted the coach, when the launch came alongside. "Didn't you hear me say 'easy'?"
The cox, looking like a wretched little rat huddled up in his thick blazer and scarf, shook his head. The stroke, a slim, fair-haired young man, glared at him as he adjusted his scarf. "Listen to what he says, you beastly little pip-squeak!" he hissed. "Shut up, Alan/' snapped the coach

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