A mysterious way to die

Gordon Meyrick seems to have had an interesting if rather short life. Born in 1909 he wrote four crime novels during World War II but in 1943 he died after falling out of an upper floor window in somewhat mysterious circumstances.

I read one of his novels during lockdown. Danger at my Heels is a fast-moving adventure in the style of John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps. Short but readable with some interesting descriptions of London during the Blitz. For example Meyrick has this conversation between his two main characters. It could perhaps seem trite until we recall when and where it was written and what has happened since.

“Don’t you think,” I said, “that everyone has worries, and if they haven’t they invent them. And then something really big like the war comes along, and we realize how petty all our little fears and squabbles are?”

“Yes, I expect the war has pulled a lot of us out of that sort of thing. It must bring tremendous spiritual help to people. That sounds rather silly and pretentious, but I expect you know what I mean. Though, of course, we’re all such frightful little egoists, that when it’s all over we’ll run round looking for our silly little values again.”

Or take these two quotes which must reflect what Meyrick saw during those times.

I strolled up a hill past the tower of a waterworks, guarded by what looked like a machine-gun post.

On a very dark night there is a technique for black-out walking. If you look up you can see the glow of the sky and the outline of buildings, this enables you to steer a course.

The Passing Tramp has two interesting posts on Meyrick’s family here and the man himself here. Well worth reading.