Hopefully we’ll get more into the actual discussion of the book tomorrow (Nov 20) when the discussion officially starts and spoilers are allowed. For now, questions like what year the book is set in are free to discuss without giving anything away.
I’ll post discussion questions tomorrow. Glad to see so many people interested.
Our discussion of The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club is now officially open, so any responses past this point can feel free to discuss the solution to the mystery and any other spoilery bits.
I'm going to keep my questions simple and general as I think that sometimes leads to better conversation than very specific questions. So here they are:
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
4. Any other thoughts about this book that you'd like to discuss?
I'll post my own responses later today. Interested to see waht others have to say about it.
Question 1: this was a reread for me, and I remembered whodunnit, but from my memories of reading it for the first time (ahem, sometime last century) it did work well as a mystery, in that it wasn't immediately obvious who the murderer was. I do remember picking up on the clues that someone had tried to make it look as if the General had died later than he actually did and feeling very proud of myself (although they were fairly obvious) but it didn't occur to me until almost the end of the book that the doctor had a motive for killing General Fentiman.
Question 2: I think this aspect of the book shows the difference between modern 'cosy' mysteries set in the 1920s and a book written by someone who actually lived through the First World War and its aftermath. Sayers was married to a WWI veteran who suffered from shell shock, so her sympathetic portrayal of George Fentiman's struggles is probably partly based on her own experiences. She also makes the point that some soldiers didn't get shell shock (Robert) and that older men without experience of the conditions in the trenches found shell shock both embarrassing and baffling.
The other difference from modern writers is the variety of attitudes to the Armistice Day silence on display. The older men who weren't involved in the fighting: respectful, some grieving sons, nephews, cousins. Younger men remembering their dead friends and their own experiences. George, angry and despairing. Robert, taking advantage of an ideal opportunity to commit fraud. Not sure a modern writer would dare to have a (mostly) sympathetic character react the way he does when he's found out, but it sounds plausible to me.
3. I didn't watch the 1970s TV adaptation, so no comment.
4. I feel sorry for Ann Dorland. Homicidal doctor or callous Hooray Henry, what a choice. There's a fairly heavy hint at the end that Robert may end up marrying her, which means he gets the money after all. Perhaps Wimsey is right and they will get on as well as most other rich couples of the time.
@PuzzledChristian I think the asides are because the tradition with the Ship of Fools book club is to start to discuss the book on or around the 20th of the month.
I’m sure we’ll soon be honing in on the story proper.
Sorry I did not realise this was a pre reviews discussion, hence query.
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
I am so bad at figuring out and then remembering the plots of mystery novels that not only was it a complete surprise to me when I first read the book years ago, I was just as surprised during the next 2 or 3 re-readings. (By now I've finally got fixed in my head whodunnit for every LPW novel but it doesn't stop me from re-reading them). I think the solution to the first mystery -- who moved the General's body, how and why -- is actually more interesting to me than the "who killed him" story. I really enjoy Robert's roguishness, his whole attitude of "why not keep the old man stashed in a phone booth for a few hours if my brother and I will get rich by concealing it," his brazen-faced determination to stick with the "Oliver" story as long as he can, at great inconvenience to himself ... really, that whole storyline is very enjoyable. I like how the absence of the poppy from the General's coat, and the absence of everyone from the building during the two minutes' silence, are keys to solving that whole mystery, and I just really enjoy Robert's attitude throughout, including his "Oh well, ya got me!" kind of response when he's found out.
By contrast, Dr. Penberthy's means and motive wasn't nearly as interesting. I do have a lot of thoughts about how Penberthy's guilt is resolved, but I may save those for another post.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
My thoughts here chime very well with @Jane R's, above - I think in this novel you can really feel the closeness to the war, and I'm sure DLS's own experience married to a WWI vet informs George and Sheila Fentiman's story. George is an interesting character because he's so sympathetic, but also says such awful things about modern women -- not all of which can be attributed to shell shock! I wonder if George and Sheila will really be OK now that they have money? The book doesn't exactly specify how the money will be divided up once the mystery is solved, but presumably George will get a fair chunk. Will money buy happiness for the Fentimans?
The other difference from modern writers is the variety of attitudes to the Armistice Day silence on display. The older men who weren't involved in the fighting: respectful, some grieving sons, nephews, cousins. Younger men remembering their dead friends and their own experiences. George, angry and despairing. Robert, taking advantage of an ideal opportunity to commit fraud.
This is the advantage of reading a writer of the time rather than a historical fiction writer re-creating the period later -- I don't think a modern writer, writing about the 1920s, would capture the cynicism of the surviving WWI veterans nearly as neatly as Sayers does here. Lord Peter himself is very cynical about Armistice Day.
More thoughts to add later, especially about Penberthy, Ann Dorland, and about the TV adaptation!
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
I think this is one of Sayer's best mysteries as it hangs together well. It makes sense that Wimsey is approached to try and sort out the problem of when the General died as he is know at the club an can be discreet. If there hadn't been foul-play it would have all been very straight-forward. Also there aren't so many possible suspects. I get very confused with some of her novels, Five Red Herrings in particular, as to who everybody is.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
I thought it probably worked even better as a novel about what the world was like for people such as the Fentiman brothers after the war. I thought Wimsey's comment at the beginning that he wished people would 'chuck these community hysterics' was interesting. Remembrance Day seemed to more or less die out in the mid-20th Century before becoming a big thing again. Poppy wearing seems to be essential on TV programmes at this time of year for instance.
George and Sheila Fentiman nowadays might have lived in a grotty flat in a large Victorian house but they wouldn't have had a char-woman or any other sort of servant. Then it was essential for them to keep up the appearance of upper middle classness.
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
I've watched the TV adaptation with Carmichael and I'm two thirds through the radio version that came out a couple of years later. I think they both appear to follow the story fairly closely and editorial decisions, such as not having Wimsey interview the staff of the Bellona club seem sensible. The TV version seemed to beef up George's backstory and tone down how horrible he was to his wife. Wimsey also seemed to slip in a couple of comments about the role of women that aren't as explicit in the book. The radio drama seems to follow the book slightly more closely, not that the TV adaptation is that different from the book.
The weirdest thing about the radio play is that Martin Jarvis, who plays George Fentiman acts him in the same way he does William Brown in the Just William stories. He has the same sort of indignant it's not my fault attitude to adversity.
4. Any other thoughts about this book that you'd like to discuss?
I found it hard to get a handle on Penberthy. When I first read the book I thought he was somewhat older than Wimsey and the Fentiman brothers, maybe in his early fifties. Now I think he is meant to be maybe Robert Fentiman's age. The way he talks about being a 'brass-plater' seems very much like someone at the start of their career. I wonder if he started out as an army doctor or if he enlisted for the duration. He obviously was very good at looking after elderly army types. Somehow he doesn't come across as a rounded character as though Sayers couldn't quite get a handle on him. He seems to have an antipathy to women, I wonder if he is supposed to be a supressed homosexual.
I think the way George treats Sheila seems horribly realistic. I wonder if Sayer's is using arguments she had with her husband as source material.
I think the way George treats Sheila seems horribly realistic. I wonder if Sayer's is using arguments she had with her husband as source material.
Possibly. It seems outrageous (to a modern audience) that Sheila has to go out to work and manage all the housework without George lifting a finger. Of course, even in these supposedly more enlightened times, most women do considerably more housework than most men. No doubt a lot of George's anger and frustration is due to humiliation at not being able to provide for his wife. And guilt, because he is angry with her instead of grateful. Looking at her comments on Parker and Lady Mary's financial arrangements in 'Murder must advertise,' Sayers seems to believe that a marriage where the wife has a lot more money than the husband is likely to run into trouble.
I think because the General died before Lady Dormer, the contingency clause in her will didn't apply so George got most of his money, Ann Dorland got Lady Dormer's and Robert got a pittance and the opportunity to bag an heiress. Which probably appealed to his sporting instincts.
I don't get the impression that Penberthy is really interested in normal human things like sex at all. He's interested in his research, but more because he wants to be remembered as a Great Man who revolutionised medicine than because he actually cares about alleviating human suffering. A lot of her doctor characters are like that.
Looking at her comments on Parker and Lady Mary's financial arrangements in 'Murder must advertise,' Sayers seems to believe that a marriage where the wife has a lot more money than the husband is likely to run into trouble.
It's always very iffy to speculate about what an author draws from real life, but it does seem possible she was writing from personal experience here, for sure.
Now I'm interested in the observation about doctors in Sayers' novels, and trying to think back to which others are portrayed badly. I've just reread Unnatural Death, in which the young doctor whose story starts the whole mystery turns out to be justified in his suspicions, but not a very good person. And of course there's Sir Julian Freke in Whose Body? -- maybe he is the type of brilliant researcher that Penberthy would have liked to grow into, given a chance?
I've read the short stories once or twice each, but don't know them nearly as well as the novels, and I can't remember that story, but will take your word for it!
Another point from @Jane R that I wanted to pick up on:
I feel sorry for Ann Dorland. Homicidal doctor or callous Hooray Henry, what a choice. There's a fairly heavy hint at the end that Robert may end up marrying her, which means he gets the money after all. Perhaps Wimsey is right and they will get on as well as most other rich couples of the time.
I too have always felt odd about the suggestion that Ann and Robert would end up together. It does consolidate some of the old lady's money (interestingly, I'd always assumed that the compromise reached at the end was to simply divide the money three ways, but I realize this is never actually stated anywhere -- how it's resolved, Robert would do very well off marrying Ann).
It's commonly said that DLS introduced Harriet Vane in Strong Poison because she was getting tired of Lord Peter and decided to end the series by marrying him off, but I think in the earlier novels she is always playing around with female characters, trying out what sort of woman might make a match for Peter. Obviously Ann isn't it - there's no sense that Peter is attracted to her -- but he is intrigued by her, and seems to treat her with more respect than most of the other characters do. But I always found his whole little lecture to her about what kind of man she should marry, and how "a man of the world" (which presumably Robert is) would be her ideal match, to be incredibly condescending.
Marjorie Phelps in this novel is, I think, another character DLS is kind of experimenting with, thinking whether she could be Peter's match. Like Harriet, she is from the world of the arts, and is obviously not of Peter's social class; there is a lot of warmth and humour in their relationship and she doesn't take him too seriously. Marjorie seems to be attracted to him, and he pretty much turns her down at the end of the novel, telling her he has a great liking for her but nothing more.
One of my favourite characters is Lady Dormer, who may be dead before the book starts but comes across as a very strong and likeable character. Not many authors go to such trouble over a McGuffin.
I suspect the issue with Marjorie is that she's not enough of an intellectual to keep up with Wimsey. You don't need to have a degree to be a potter. He does marry a middle-class woman in the end.
Yes, agree on both points: it's probably true about Marjorie not being an intellectual equal for Lord Peter. And for a character who never appears alive in a scene in the novel, Lady Dormer really does come across as a very well-developed character!
Regarding the impact of WWI on this story: it's interesting that very little is said here about Lord Peter's own shell-shock and its ongoing impact. I think it's mentioned once, almost in passing, and he's obviously holding it together much better than George is. But Lord Peter has a breakdown at the end of at least two of the other novels -- however, when that happens, he has Bunter to take care of him, and his mother to whisk him off to the comforts of Duke's Denver, and all the comforts that wealth can provide. Which brings me back to the question of: are we to assume George will be OK now that he has money? Not that it will cure his PTSD, but his mental health problems will no longer be exacerbated by the stress of extreme poverty, and he'll be much more cushioned from the blows of life.
We've got lots more folks in this thread who have recently either read or reread the book, so I hope some more will join in the conversation soon!
I didn’t try to re-read the whole book this month but I did go back to some of the key chapters. I think it does work well as a mystery… it’s really not obvious whodunnit and Robert’s interference with the body complicates things to make things even less obvious. I don’t really have a good feel for the time and place but Sayers’ portrayal is believable.
Thanks for running the discussion this month, Trudy. I enjoyed reading another classic mystery, even if I still am a bigger fan of Agatha Christie than Dorothy Sayers.
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
The novel worked for me as a mystery. I guessed almost correctly that a secret fiance if Anne Dorland would be the murderer (Penberthy was not officially engaged to Dorland, but was planning to marry her), but ended up reading the end of the book to check George ended up okay before working out Penberthy was the man. I like Christie's mysteries because I am always able to resist the temptation to read the ending before the end, perhaps because most of her characters get what they deserve at the end, so I don't worry about them. George wasn't very nice to his wife, but I still wanted things to work out for them both.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?b
I agree with others that contemporary novels of the time seem more realistic than modern novels. It was interesting to read about how all the characters viewed armistice day. My family is the type that passes down family stories, but my two great grandfathers that served in the Australian forces in WWI, one on the Somme and one there and at Gallipoli and even my Scottish great grandfather that was in the British Navy repairing ships at Scarpa Flow did not talk about their war experiences. I found the Scottish great grandfather's war records recently and he probably witnessed the sinking of the HMS Vanguard, due to a (probably) accidental explosion, but we never knew about that.
Money might have made a difference to mental health. My great grandfather who married into a well off family didn't suffer much mentally and was lucky to get through the entire war and two battle fronts without physical injury. My other great grandfather went back to farming and had to deal with all sort of disasters shortly afterwards. He also had to have continued treatment after being gassed during the war. He suffered quite a bit from PTSD which affected his wife and children as well. The worst thing about PTSD is it doesn't always go away. I remember visiting his wife in hospital when she was in her 90s and a man in her ward had dementia and believed he was back in the trenches and was having agitated conversations with people from his past while we were there. It seems so unfair to go through the war in real life and then be trapped back there in his mind almost 80 years later.
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
I watched the TV adaption and felt it represented the book well. I did think the actor playing Whimsey was a bit old, but it helped me see how he would have talked. I found his style of speech and expressions a bit annoying while reading the book, but less so on screen.
I think the experience of your grandfathers is a really interesting addition to this question, @Mili; thanks for sharing it. Terrible to think of people being affected by PTSD so many decades after the war.
Perhaps it's not so much that money can fix mental illness and trauma, as that lack of money and the attended stress of trying to earn a living can exacerbate it so much -- which is really the difference between Lord Peter and George in this novel. As they say, "Money can't buy happiness, but it can make you awfully comfortable while you're being miserable."
Another thing I'm wondering is what do people think about Lord Peter's idea of "justice" for Dr. Penberthy -- having him write the confession then leaving him along on the polite and gentlemanly understanding that he will "do the honourable thing" and commit suicide?
I thought it was surprising that he took the messy way out - it is mentioned that as a doctor, Pemberthy would have access to suitable drugs, and that seems like it would be easier. I suppose he didn't have them on his person and would have had to go home.
The idea is not that he avoids a trial for his own sake, but for Ann Dorland's sake, isn't it? She wouldn't be able to be cleared of suspicion.
I have read most Sayers books so many times that the mystery is not the key part - it's the characters and setting. I do enjoy her writing. It's interesting, as several people have remarked, to get a view of Armistice Day from that close to WWI. And she obviously didn't feel it was sacrilegious to use it as a plot point!
I found Penberthy's behaviour at the end inconsistent with his behaviour in the rest of the novel. I suppose he might have been motivated by the fact that he'd been caught and had a choice between committing suicide, or being publicly humiliated and then executed. However if he was also motivated by a wish to spare Ann Dorland from humiliation and/or being charged as an accessory, it's the first evidence we've seen of him caring about anything except himself and The Clinic.
I don't think his choice of method is that surprising, for an army doctor who'd been through the Great War. As Martha says, he would have had to go home for something suitable.
What I find interesting (and I'll spoiler-tag most of what's below for the benefit of people who haven't read all these stories, and might still want to) is how often this particular "solution" (or some variant of it) comes up in the Lord Peter Wimsey novels. I wonder if it's just because Sayers thought it tidied away the loose ends nicely (no chance that the killer will be found Not Guilty at a trial) or if she really felt that suicide was the best response to having committed murder and been found out.
In the first Lord Peter mystery, Whose Body?,
Sir Julian writes a long confession of his own accord, not so much confessing as bragging about his crime, then is arrested just before finishing. He tries to commit suicide but is stopped by the police.
The next book, Clouds of Witness, is the one in which
both Peter's brother Gerald and his sister Mary are potential suspects in the murder of Denis Cathcart. In fact, there is no murder - the solution to the mystery is that Cathcart himself committed suicide. But in discussing this case years later with Harriet, Peter says he once thought he might have faced the choice of hanging either his brother or his sister, and Harriet suggests that if it had come to that, the correct solution from the mystery novelist's perspective would have been "an extorted confession, followed by poison for two in the library." Which is almost exactly the solution Peter reaches in Bellona Club, except that he doesn't kill himself -- that drastic measure would apparently only be necessary in the case of finding one of his siblings guilty.
Next we come to Unnatural Death, where
Mary Whittaker is caught and arrested for the murders, but commits suicide in prison.
The one that stands out most to me is Murder Must Advertise, where Lord Peter
advises the murderer, Tallboy, to walk into a situation where he will almost certainly be killed, so that his death will look like an accident and no shame accrue to his family. So essentially telling him to commit suicide as he tells Penberthy to do, but with the added twist that his family won't know that it was suicide -- nor will they know he murdered his blackmailer.
There are also a couple of other novels
(Gaudy Night, The Nine Tailors) where there turns out to be no murder, but in one of these the person causing the trouble is "medically dealt with" (implication that they're committed to an insane asylum) and in the other, the person who was indirectly responsible for the victim's death dies in a completely unrelated way not long after).
The only Lord Peter books I can think of* where the murderer is actually caught, tried, and presumably hanged for their crime are
Whose Body, Have His Carcass, and Busman's Honeymoon.
Looking at all those examples I get the feeling that Sayers did feel that death is the appropriate punishment for taking another person's life, but the cases where that death is a sentence carried out by the justice system are relatively rare. I'm not entirely sure what to conclude from that, but it has always stood out to me about these books.
*Five Red Herrings, and the short stories, are omitted from this list, but that's because I don't know them well enough. I'm not sure if they would substantially change my thesis though. The short stories, if I recall, generally end with Lord Peter simply identifying the criminal, and don't bother with the aftermath, whether legal or extrajudicial.
I suspect (based on Busman's Honeymoon) that she tried to avoid deaths by judicial system precisely because Lord Peter has elements in his character which make him unable to cope with that sort of outcome. She shows us just how it works out in that final book, psychologically--he breaks down and is "rescued" by the fact that he now has Harriet's support through it. That's appropriate for that book, given its subject matter (adjustments to a new marriage) and also its placement in the series--Lord Peter's character is most developed at that point. But if she had included such deaths in many of the earlier books, she would have also faced the dilemma of whether to show the resulting breakdowns--which not only take up quite a lot of book space, but would have had the disquieting effect of making LP far more psychologically developed and conflicted than all the other characters in those books. I mean, he's largely an engaging and intelligent rattle to begin with--good company, but not much more. Forcing him to cope more often and earlier with his own role in bringing about executions, even mostly off-stage--I think it would have resulted in books with one very well-developed, rounded character, against a background of flat puppets. (You can see Harriet struggling with just this problem in the novel she's writing during Gaudy Night--Peter pushes her through a painful process of figuring out more realistic motivations for her main character, and that throws the rest of the book completely out of whack. I believe the quote was something like "Against the other characters' competent vacuity, Wilbur's tortured humanity stood out like a wound.".)
I too was puzzled as to why Penberthy would use the gun. Far more messy to clean up for a start. I'm assuming that the matter is now closed and it doesn't become widely known that the General was murdered, so maybe using a gun looks more likely a way to commit suicide for an old soldier rather than pills
My maternal grandfather was a commissionaire during the 1920s though not at a private members club. He was in his fifties and had served in the Boer War as well as WW1. I'm sure he would have been very respectful towards Lord Peter, but would have probably thought he was a bit wet between the ears. He also wasn't that keen on Armistice day or the selling of poppies. He thought old soldiers deserved a lot more than charity.
Your maternal grandfather would have had no arguments from me. The British government has a long and dishonourable tradition of ignoring its obligations towards veterans of the many wars it has been involved in. Hence the British Legion, Help for Heroes, etc.
I doubt Penberthy would have cared about the feelings of whoever had to clean up the mess.
It's interesting how many of the murderers do (are allowed to) commit suicide after being found out. I think Lamb Chopped is right, about it being a way for Sayers to avoid showing Wimsey's struggles - tortured humanity, heh - but also perhaps a way of allowing the murderer to redeem himself by falling on his sword in the grand Roman tradition.
Just thinking aloud, I wonder if it reflects some ambivalence on Sayers’ part to state-imposed killing. Though of course the alternative isn’t really any better for the individual involved.
Does anyone recall the fate of the murderer in Strong Poison? I think that’s the only major work that @Trudy hasn’t mentioned.
I think we have to take into account Lord Peter's background and its cultural ... permission? for suicide as somehow a better choice (more courageous, even possibly redemptive in a secular sense, because self-chosen and accepted) than the shameful experience of being dragged through the courts and finally hanged. This is not necessarily Sayers' viewpoint; the author and the character are different.
I think the last we hear of him is when he's getting dragged off by the police, and Wimsey quotes Housman--"Mithridates, he died old"--and adds that in this case, he fancies that will not be the case. So apparently we can add Urquhart to those executed (though the book ends before his trial ever begins, so again we don't have to see Wimsey reacting to the execution). There's also a strong distraction as the book ends with his attempt to establish a relationship with Harriet Vane--who rejects the idea with loathing.
Wimsey certainly believes that Penberthy's suicide is the only way to keep Dorland's reputation and name out of the courts.
Presumably Penberthy goes along with it as he believes his position is hopeless and is not entirely void of decency. (He shows rather more compunction over his crimes than Robert does over his.)
(I note that Wimsey seems not entirely certain afterwards that the case would have held up in court without Penberthy's confession.)
Just thinking aloud, I wonder if it reflects some ambivalence on Sayers’ part to state-imposed killing. Though of course the alternative isn’t really any better for the individual involved.
Does anyone recall the fate of the murderer in Strong Poison? I think that’s the only major work that @Trudy hasn’t mentioned.
Yes, I completely forgot about Strong Poison -- I believe there might even be a reference in a later book (Gaudy Night?) to him having been found guilty and hanged. (Although I could be confusing that with Have His Carcase). Strong Poison is certainly one case where Lord Peter has NO sympathy with the murderer and seems almost gleeful about the possibility of his execution -- but he would feel that way, given that his arrest frees Harriet from suspicion,.
I was surprised Colonel Marchbanks left his pistol in Penberthy's reach and suggested he could use it. Surely even in the 1920s there would have to be an inquest into Penberthy's death and Colonel Marchbank could end up in a sticky situation.
I think the attitude to firearms was very different then. He might get a metaphorical slapped wrist for not being more careful, but not much more. “Surely a desk drawer in an ex-military gentleman’s club, served largely by ex-servicemen, should be safe enough.”
I think the attitude to firearms was very different then. He might get a metaphorical slapped wrist for not being more careful, but not much more. “Surely a desk drawer in an ex-military gentleman’s club, served largely by ex-servicemen, should be safe enough.”
From memory, there were effectively no restrictions on gun ownership in UK law until 1926, and the spur to bringing them in was the number of crimes committed by ex-servicemen using weapons either brought back from WW1 as souvenirs or simply obtained because there were so many kicking around they were easy to get hold of
Right up until the aftermath of the Hungerford shootings (1987?), Britain had really quite lax gun control - I remember talking to a chap who claimed to have had a heavy machine gun that he was OK to use as long as he took it down to his gun club and used it there.
I was thinking more along the lines of Marchbanks providing a gun and encouraging Penberthy to kill himself. Or, despite the confession, an investigation might have to take place to ensure it was suicide, not murder, and Marchbanks might be questioned given it was his gun. It's one thing that everyone acknowledged it was an easier way out than a trial and hanging, it's another to encourage someone to take their life and provide the weapon.
I decided to do a bit of research and it seems perhaps Marchbanks was thinking like the military man he was when he provided the rifle. He would likely see it as honourable of Penberthy to 'fall on his own sword'. I found a famous example in the case of Colonel Redl and Conrad Von Hotzendorf. Colonel Redl was in charge of the Russian sector in the Austro-Hungarian intelligence service before WW1, but started working for the Russians for money and perhaps due to blackmail by the Russians. When caught, Conrad Von Hotzendorf, the Austrian Chief of Staff, provided him Redl with a revolver to take the honourable way out. Of course this was a terrible decision as Redl could not then be interrogated to find out what information he gave the Russians, which had major consequences for the Austro-Hungarian decision to invade Serbia and influence the start and outcome of WW1. However Von Hotzendorf was not punished for this act and continued in his role until further bad decisions got him demoted. Perhaps in the British military this was also considered a legal course of action for those punishing traitors and deserters, but I'm not sure if it would be considered so in a civilian murder case. You can go to https://www.warhistoryonline.com/world-war-i/colonel-redl-spy-destroyed-austro-hungarian-empire.html if you want to know more about Colonel Redl
I think Penberthy shot himself (rather than use poison) because a gun was available at hand. I also doubt whether he cared about leaving a mess behind him.
Whatever the reason for using a gun rather than poison, I do agree with everyone who's suggested that Penberthy's suicide - and Lord Peter's apparent preference for confession + suicide as a way to resolve a murder case - does have a lot to do with conceptions of honour that would have been prevalent in the English upper classes, and among military men, at that time. The "gentlemanly" way to take responsibility for the very ungentlemanly act of having murdered someone.
Lord Peter holds to a lot of those social codes, even as in other ways he seems to delight in crossing class boundaries and subverting social expectations.
Also, of course, as a couple of people have pointed out, it does take away from him the responsibility of having essentially condemned someone to death, and his own PTSD is definitely triggered by situations where he feels too much responsibility is being placed on him. Although I'm not sure I would find the responsibility of basically ordering someone to take their own life, that much easier to live with than turning them over to civil authorities who might pass a death sentence.
I found a famous example in the case of Colonel Redl and Conrad Von Hotzendorf.
What an interesting story, @Mili, thanks for sharing it! I doubt this would have been considered "legal" in the British military at the time (don't know for sure though) but I'm sure there would have been men especially among the officers who thought of it as "the honourable way out."
I enjoyed re-reading this book after several years: I found I could remember clearly about Robert's antics on Armistice Day, and the missing poppy etc., but couldn't remember who'd actually done the murder, and enjoyed finding out again.
As others have said, it's very interesting to hear about the attitude to the war and remembrance from someone much closer than us in time.
One thing that surprised me was the time when Wimsey and Parker were talking to the journalists with no apparent regard for confidentiality or boundaries.
I agree with others that letting the murderer dispose of himself with a gun rather than be captured and hanged does seem a dated idea. Also what were working-class murderers expected to do in the same situation? hang themselves in their braces, perhaps.
When discussing Sayers' attitude to doctors, we shouldn't forget Harriet's father the GP. , who is well remembered in Busman's Honeymoon
I think Penberthy shot himself (rather than use poison) because a gun was available at hand. I also doubt whether he cared about leaving a mess behind him.
Poisoning oneself is hardly the act of a gentleman. A lady might take poison, I suppose, should the need arise, but a gentleman takes a glass of whisky and a revolver.
I agree with others that letting the murderer dispose of himself with a gun rather than be captured and hanged does seem a dated idea. Also what were working-class murderers expected to do in the same situation? hang themselves in their braces, perhaps.
Die heroically trying to rescue someone else from drowning? See Nine Tailors.
I've just reread Who's Body? And was struck by the sensitive way Lord Peter's PTSD is portrayed. The info I've gleaned on this thread gives some insight into that. Thanks folks
I think Penberthy's gentleman-status may be questionable.
Nine Tailors and Murder Must Advertise are two of the ones I summarized in my spoiler-tagged post above, where Sayers finds ways to punish the killers without involving the justice system. And you're correct, @HarryCH, that the man who dies in the flood is not a murderer -- however
Will Thoday is the person most responsible for Deacon's death, since he did confine him to the bell tower, which led indirectly to Death By Bells. I wonder if Thoday could have been charged with manslaughter?
(Again, spoiler-tagging the names and details for anyone who hasn't read NT and might want to.
It's that death in Nine Tailors, actually, that makes me think Sayers really did have a deep-seated belief in "a life for a life" -- the man responsible for another man's death, even indirectly, does have to pay for it. It's quite a sad ending to that mystery, I think.
@Polly Plummer, like you, I found that when first re-reading this book after a long gap, I remembered the details of Robert's crime, which hinge on the poppy and the two minutes' silence, but not the actual murder. I think Robert's hiding and moving the body, and the way in which Lord Peter figures it out, is actually a much more interesting mystery and solution, than the murder itself! More of a puzzle, I guess.
What do we all think of Bunter as the Watson character?
He doesn't seem to have a lot of agency though he is extremely useful at getting information that Wimsey would find difficult to obtain. Becoming friendly with other servants for instance. His photographic skills are also an asset. He appears more intelligent than Watson but not being a social equal he doesn't have those sort of conversations that Holmes and Watson or Poirot and Hastings have where the sidekick assumes he has an idea of what is going on and the detective shows they are in error. I don't think Bunter would ever offer an opinion, even when asked he tends to agree with Wimsey 'Very good, my lord.'
Interesting, because early on in the book he disagrees (albeit in a minor way) with Lord Peter‘s suggestion about what suit he might wear.
Another thing I have noticed is that Lord Peter talks of having hunted Bunter up after the war, but in Busman‘s Honeymoon Peter’s mother says that that Bunter just turned up out of the blue and took charge of Peter.
As I recall the figleaf excuse Bunter offered (to Peter himself, so he wouldn't have to admit the reality of the situation!) was that Peter had promised him a job if and when they both survived and left the military.
Bunter has a habit of doing things for Peter's own good but wrapping them in excuses that prevent Peter from objecting. For example, he did a lovely job of seeming to take offense when Peter considered leaving him at home (unlike other similar situations before Peter married Harriet) and going to visit the soon-to-be-executed villain of Busman's Honeymoon on his own. Bunter's true reason for pushing the master was to prevent Peter dealing with a bad emotional situation without backup.
There is also a spot in the same book where Bunter admits to himself that he's been interfering carefully to bring about that marriage, doubtless because he judges it a good thing for Peter. I wouldn't see him as passive--simply very tactful and skilled in handling Peter.
Comments
I’ll post discussion questions tomorrow. Glad to see so many people interested.
I'm going to keep my questions simple and general as I think that sometimes leads to better conversation than very specific questions. So here they are:
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
4. Any other thoughts about this book that you'd like to discuss?
I'll post my own responses later today. Interested to see waht others have to say about it.
Question 2: I think this aspect of the book shows the difference between modern 'cosy' mysteries set in the 1920s and a book written by someone who actually lived through the First World War and its aftermath. Sayers was married to a WWI veteran who suffered from shell shock, so her sympathetic portrayal of George Fentiman's struggles is probably partly based on her own experiences. She also makes the point that some soldiers didn't get shell shock (Robert) and that older men without experience of the conditions in the trenches found shell shock both embarrassing and baffling.
The other difference from modern writers is the variety of attitudes to the Armistice Day silence on display. The older men who weren't involved in the fighting: respectful, some grieving sons, nephews, cousins. Younger men remembering their dead friends and their own experiences. George, angry and despairing. Robert, taking advantage of an ideal opportunity to commit fraud. Not sure a modern writer would dare to have a (mostly) sympathetic character react the way he does when he's found out, but it sounds plausible to me.
3. I didn't watch the 1970s TV adaptation, so no comment.
4. I feel sorry for Ann Dorland. Homicidal doctor or callous Hooray Henry, what a choice. There's a fairly heavy hint at the end that Robert may end up marrying her, which means he gets the money after all. Perhaps Wimsey is right and they will get on as well as most other rich couples of the time.
Sorry I did not realise this was a pre reviews discussion, hence query.
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
I am so bad at figuring out and then remembering the plots of mystery novels that not only was it a complete surprise to me when I first read the book years ago, I was just as surprised during the next 2 or 3 re-readings. (By now I've finally got fixed in my head whodunnit for every LPW novel but it doesn't stop me from re-reading them). I think the solution to the first mystery -- who moved the General's body, how and why -- is actually more interesting to me than the "who killed him" story. I really enjoy Robert's roguishness, his whole attitude of "why not keep the old man stashed in a phone booth for a few hours if my brother and I will get rich by concealing it," his brazen-faced determination to stick with the "Oliver" story as long as he can, at great inconvenience to himself ... really, that whole storyline is very enjoyable. I like how the absence of the poppy from the General's coat, and the absence of everyone from the building during the two minutes' silence, are keys to solving that whole mystery, and I just really enjoy Robert's attitude throughout, including his "Oh well, ya got me!" kind of response when he's found out.
By contrast, Dr. Penberthy's means and motive wasn't nearly as interesting. I do have a lot of thoughts about how Penberthy's guilt is resolved, but I may save those for another post.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
My thoughts here chime very well with @Jane R's, above - I think in this novel you can really feel the closeness to the war, and I'm sure DLS's own experience married to a WWI vet informs George and Sheila Fentiman's story. George is an interesting character because he's so sympathetic, but also says such awful things about modern women -- not all of which can be attributed to shell shock! I wonder if George and Sheila will really be OK now that they have money? The book doesn't exactly specify how the money will be divided up once the mystery is solved, but presumably George will get a fair chunk. Will money buy happiness for the Fentimans?
I also agree, @Jane R, with this point:
This is the advantage of reading a writer of the time rather than a historical fiction writer re-creating the period later -- I don't think a modern writer, writing about the 1920s, would capture the cynicism of the surviving WWI veterans nearly as neatly as Sayers does here. Lord Peter himself is very cynical about Armistice Day.
More thoughts to add later, especially about Penberthy, Ann Dorland, and about the TV adaptation!
I think this is one of Sayer's best mysteries as it hangs together well. It makes sense that Wimsey is approached to try and sort out the problem of when the General died as he is know at the club an can be discreet. If there hadn't been foul-play it would have all been very straight-forward. Also there aren't so many possible suspects. I get very confused with some of her novels, Five Red Herrings in particular, as to who everybody is.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?
I thought it probably worked even better as a novel about what the world was like for people such as the Fentiman brothers after the war. I thought Wimsey's comment at the beginning that he wished people would 'chuck these community hysterics' was interesting. Remembrance Day seemed to more or less die out in the mid-20th Century before becoming a big thing again. Poppy wearing seems to be essential on TV programmes at this time of year for instance.
George and Sheila Fentiman nowadays might have lived in a grotty flat in a large Victorian house but they wouldn't have had a char-woman or any other sort of servant. Then it was essential for them to keep up the appearance of upper middle classness.
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
I've watched the TV adaptation with Carmichael and I'm two thirds through the radio version that came out a couple of years later. I think they both appear to follow the story fairly closely and editorial decisions, such as not having Wimsey interview the staff of the Bellona club seem sensible. The TV version seemed to beef up George's backstory and tone down how horrible he was to his wife. Wimsey also seemed to slip in a couple of comments about the role of women that aren't as explicit in the book. The radio drama seems to follow the book slightly more closely, not that the TV adaptation is that different from the book.
The weirdest thing about the radio play is that Martin Jarvis, who plays George Fentiman acts him in the same way he does William Brown in the Just William stories. He has the same sort of indignant it's not my fault attitude to adversity.
4. Any other thoughts about this book that you'd like to discuss?
I found it hard to get a handle on Penberthy. When I first read the book I thought he was somewhat older than Wimsey and the Fentiman brothers, maybe in his early fifties. Now I think he is meant to be maybe Robert Fentiman's age. The way he talks about being a 'brass-plater' seems very much like someone at the start of their career. I wonder if he started out as an army doctor or if he enlisted for the duration. He obviously was very good at looking after elderly army types. Somehow he doesn't come across as a rounded character as though Sayers couldn't quite get a handle on him. He seems to have an antipathy to women, I wonder if he is supposed to be a supressed homosexual.
I think the way George treats Sheila seems horribly realistic. I wonder if Sayer's is using arguments she had with her husband as source material.
Possibly. It seems outrageous (to a modern audience) that Sheila has to go out to work and manage all the housework without George lifting a finger. Of course, even in these supposedly more enlightened times, most women do considerably more housework than most men. No doubt a lot of George's anger and frustration is due to humiliation at not being able to provide for his wife. And guilt, because he is angry with her instead of grateful. Looking at her comments on Parker and Lady Mary's financial arrangements in 'Murder must advertise,' Sayers seems to believe that a marriage where the wife has a lot more money than the husband is likely to run into trouble.
I think because the General died before Lady Dormer, the contingency clause in her will didn't apply so George got most of his money, Ann Dorland got Lady Dormer's and Robert got a pittance and the opportunity to bag an heiress. Which probably appealed to his sporting instincts.
I don't get the impression that Penberthy is really interested in normal human things like sex at all. He's interested in his research, but more because he wants to be remembered as a Great Man who revolutionised medicine than because he actually cares about alleviating human suffering. A lot of her doctor characters are like that.
It's always very iffy to speculate about what an author draws from real life, but it does seem possible she was writing from personal experience here, for sure.
Now I'm interested in the observation about doctors in Sayers' novels, and trying to think back to which others are portrayed badly. I've just reread Unnatural Death, in which the young doctor whose story starts the whole mystery turns out to be justified in his suspicions, but not a very good person. And of course there's Sir Julian Freke in Whose Body? -- maybe he is the type of brilliant researcher that Penberthy would have liked to grow into, given a chance?
Another point from @Jane R that I wanted to pick up on:
I too have always felt odd about the suggestion that Ann and Robert would end up together. It does consolidate some of the old lady's money (interestingly, I'd always assumed that the compromise reached at the end was to simply divide the money three ways, but I realize this is never actually stated anywhere -- how it's resolved, Robert would do very well off marrying Ann).
It's commonly said that DLS introduced Harriet Vane in Strong Poison because she was getting tired of Lord Peter and decided to end the series by marrying him off, but I think in the earlier novels she is always playing around with female characters, trying out what sort of woman might make a match for Peter. Obviously Ann isn't it - there's no sense that Peter is attracted to her -- but he is intrigued by her, and seems to treat her with more respect than most of the other characters do. But I always found his whole little lecture to her about what kind of man she should marry, and how "a man of the world" (which presumably Robert is) would be her ideal match, to be incredibly condescending.
Marjorie Phelps in this novel is, I think, another character DLS is kind of experimenting with, thinking whether she could be Peter's match. Like Harriet, she is from the world of the arts, and is obviously not of Peter's social class; there is a lot of warmth and humour in their relationship and she doesn't take him too seriously. Marjorie seems to be attracted to him, and he pretty much turns her down at the end of the novel, telling her he has a great liking for her but nothing more.
I suspect the issue with Marjorie is that she's not enough of an intellectual to keep up with Wimsey. You don't need to have a degree to be a potter. He does marry a middle-class woman in the end.
Regarding the impact of WWI on this story: it's interesting that very little is said here about Lord Peter's own shell-shock and its ongoing impact. I think it's mentioned once, almost in passing, and he's obviously holding it together much better than George is. But Lord Peter has a breakdown at the end of at least two of the other novels -- however, when that happens, he has Bunter to take care of him, and his mother to whisk him off to the comforts of Duke's Denver, and all the comforts that wealth can provide. Which brings me back to the question of: are we to assume George will be OK now that he has money? Not that it will cure his PTSD, but his mental health problems will no longer be exacerbated by the stress of extreme poverty, and he'll be much more cushioned from the blows of life.
We've got lots more folks in this thread who have recently either read or reread the book, so I hope some more will join in the conversation soon!
1. Did this novel "work" for you as a mystery -- were you intrigued by the problem of who killed General Fentiman; was the solution satisfying; did you figure it out before Lord Peter did?
The novel worked for me as a mystery. I guessed almost correctly that a secret fiance if Anne Dorland would be the murderer (Penberthy was not officially engaged to Dorland, but was planning to marry her), but ended up reading the end of the book to check George ended up okay before working out Penberthy was the man. I like Christie's mysteries because I am always able to resist the temptation to read the ending before the end, perhaps because most of her characters get what they deserve at the end, so I don't worry about them. George wasn't very nice to his wife, but I still wanted things to work out for them both.
2. Apart from the mystery aspect, what did you think of this novel in terms of how it represented its place and time, specifically the legacy of the First World War in the decade immediately following the end of the conflict?b
I agree with others that contemporary novels of the time seem more realistic than modern novels. It was interesting to read about how all the characters viewed armistice day. My family is the type that passes down family stories, but my two great grandfathers that served in the Australian forces in WWI, one on the Somme and one there and at Gallipoli and even my Scottish great grandfather that was in the British Navy repairing ships at Scarpa Flow did not talk about their war experiences. I found the Scottish great grandfather's war records recently and he probably witnessed the sinking of the HMS Vanguard, due to a (probably) accidental explosion, but we never knew about that.
Money might have made a difference to mental health. My great grandfather who married into a well off family didn't suffer much mentally and was lucky to get through the entire war and two battle fronts without physical injury. My other great grandfather went back to farming and had to deal with all sort of disasters shortly afterwards. He also had to have continued treatment after being gassed during the war. He suffered quite a bit from PTSD which affected his wife and children as well. The worst thing about PTSD is it doesn't always go away. I remember visiting his wife in hospital when she was in her 90s and a man in her ward had dementia and believed he was back in the trenches and was having agitated conversations with people from his past while we were there. It seems so unfair to go through the war in real life and then be trapped back there in his mind almost 80 years later.
3. If, like some of us did this month (or have before) you also watched the 1970s TV adaptation, what did you think about that and how well it represented the book?
I watched the TV adaption and felt it represented the book well. I did think the actor playing Whimsey was a bit old, but it helped me see how he would have talked. I found his style of speech and expressions a bit annoying while reading the book, but less so on screen.
Perhaps it's not so much that money can fix mental illness and trauma, as that lack of money and the attended stress of trying to earn a living can exacerbate it so much -- which is really the difference between Lord Peter and George in this novel. As they say, "Money can't buy happiness, but it can make you awfully comfortable while you're being miserable."
Another thing I'm wondering is what do people think about Lord Peter's idea of "justice" for Dr. Penberthy -- having him write the confession then leaving him along on the polite and gentlemanly understanding that he will "do the honourable thing" and commit suicide?
The idea is not that he avoids a trial for his own sake, but for Ann Dorland's sake, isn't it? She wouldn't be able to be cleared of suspicion.
I have read most Sayers books so many times that the mystery is not the key part - it's the characters and setting. I do enjoy her writing. It's interesting, as several people have remarked, to get a view of Armistice Day from that close to WWI. And she obviously didn't feel it was sacrilegious to use it as a plot point!
I don't think his choice of method is that surprising, for an army doctor who'd been through the Great War. As Martha says, he would have had to go home for something suitable.
In the first Lord Peter mystery, Whose Body?,
The next book, Clouds of Witness, is the one in which
Next we come to Unnatural Death, where
The one that stands out most to me is Murder Must Advertise, where Lord Peter
There are also a couple of other novels
Looking at all those examples I get the feeling that Sayers did feel that death is the appropriate punishment for taking another person's life, but the cases where that death is a sentence carried out by the justice system are relatively rare. I'm not entirely sure what to conclude from that, but it has always stood out to me about these books.
*Five Red Herrings, and the short stories, are omitted from this list, but that's because I don't know them well enough. I'm not sure if they would substantially change my thesis though. The short stories, if I recall, generally end with Lord Peter simply identifying the criminal, and don't bother with the aftermath, whether legal or extrajudicial.
My maternal grandfather was a commissionaire during the 1920s though not at a private members club. He was in his fifties and had served in the Boer War as well as WW1. I'm sure he would have been very respectful towards Lord Peter, but would have probably thought he was a bit wet between the ears. He also wasn't that keen on Armistice day or the selling of poppies. He thought old soldiers deserved a lot more than charity.
I doubt Penberthy would have cared about the feelings of whoever had to clean up the mess.
It's interesting how many of the murderers do (are allowed to) commit suicide after being found out. I think Lamb Chopped is right, about it being a way for Sayers to avoid showing Wimsey's struggles - tortured humanity, heh - but also perhaps a way of allowing the murderer to redeem himself by falling on his sword in the grand Roman tradition.
Does anyone recall the fate of the murderer in Strong Poison? I think that’s the only major work that @Trudy hasn’t mentioned.
I think the last we hear of him is when he's getting dragged off by the police, and Wimsey quotes Housman--"Mithridates, he died old"--and adds that in this case, he fancies that will not be the case. So apparently we can add Urquhart to those executed (though the book ends before his trial ever begins, so again we don't have to see Wimsey reacting to the execution). There's also a strong distraction as the book ends with his attempt to establish a relationship with Harriet Vane--who rejects the idea with loathing.
Presumably Penberthy goes along with it as he believes his position is hopeless and is not entirely void of decency. (He shows rather more compunction over his crimes than Robert does over his.)
(I note that Wimsey seems not entirely certain afterwards that the case would have held up in court without Penberthy's confession.)
Yes, I completely forgot about Strong Poison -- I believe there might even be a reference in a later book (Gaudy Night?) to him having been found guilty and hanged. (Although I could be confusing that with Have His Carcase). Strong Poison is certainly one case where Lord Peter has NO sympathy with the murderer and seems almost gleeful about the possibility of his execution -- but he would feel that way, given that his arrest frees Harriet from suspicion,.
From memory, there were effectively no restrictions on gun ownership in UK law until 1926, and the spur to bringing them in was the number of crimes committed by ex-servicemen using weapons either brought back from WW1 as souvenirs or simply obtained because there were so many kicking around they were easy to get hold of
Right up until the aftermath of the Hungerford shootings (1987?), Britain had really quite lax gun control - I remember talking to a chap who claimed to have had a heavy machine gun that he was OK to use as long as he took it down to his gun club and used it there.
Lord Peter holds to a lot of those social codes, even as in other ways he seems to delight in crossing class boundaries and subverting social expectations.
Also, of course, as a couple of people have pointed out, it does take away from him the responsibility of having essentially condemned someone to death, and his own PTSD is definitely triggered by situations where he feels too much responsibility is being placed on him. Although I'm not sure I would find the responsibility of basically ordering someone to take their own life, that much easier to live with than turning them over to civil authorities who might pass a death sentence.
What an interesting story, @Mili, thanks for sharing it! I doubt this would have been considered "legal" in the British military at the time (don't know for sure though) but I'm sure there would have been men especially among the officers who thought of it as "the honourable way out."
As others have said, it's very interesting to hear about the attitude to the war and remembrance from someone much closer than us in time.
One thing that surprised me was the time when Wimsey and Parker were talking to the journalists with no apparent regard for confidentiality or boundaries.
I agree with others that letting the murderer dispose of himself with a gun rather than be captured and hanged does seem a dated idea. Also what were working-class murderers expected to do in the same situation? hang themselves in their braces, perhaps.
When discussing Sayers' attitude to doctors, we shouldn't forget Harriet's father the GP. , who is well remembered in Busman's Honeymoon
Poisoning oneself is hardly the act of a gentleman. A lady might take poison, I suppose, should the need arise, but a gentleman takes a glass of whisky and a revolver.
Die heroically trying to rescue someone else from drowning? See Nine Tailors.
I don't actually think of Penberthy as a gentleman.
Nine Tailors and Murder Must Advertise are two of the ones I summarized in my spoiler-tagged post above, where Sayers finds ways to punish the killers without involving the justice system. And you're correct, @HarryCH, that the man who dies in the flood is not a murderer -- however
It's that death in Nine Tailors, actually, that makes me think Sayers really did have a deep-seated belief in "a life for a life" -- the man responsible for another man's death, even indirectly, does have to pay for it. It's quite a sad ending to that mystery, I think.
@Polly Plummer, like you, I found that when first re-reading this book after a long gap, I remembered the details of Robert's crime, which hinge on the poppy and the two minutes' silence, but not the actual murder. I think Robert's hiding and moving the body, and the way in which Lord Peter figures it out, is actually a much more interesting mystery and solution, than the murder itself! More of a puzzle, I guess.
He doesn't seem to have a lot of agency though he is extremely useful at getting information that Wimsey would find difficult to obtain. Becoming friendly with other servants for instance. His photographic skills are also an asset. He appears more intelligent than Watson but not being a social equal he doesn't have those sort of conversations that Holmes and Watson or Poirot and Hastings have where the sidekick assumes he has an idea of what is going on and the detective shows they are in error. I don't think Bunter would ever offer an opinion, even when asked he tends to agree with Wimsey 'Very good, my lord.'
Another thing I have noticed is that Lord Peter talks of having hunted Bunter up after the war, but in Busman‘s Honeymoon Peter’s mother says that that Bunter just turned up out of the blue and took charge of Peter.
There is also a spot in the same book where Bunter admits to himself that he's been interfering carefully to bring about that marriage, doubtless because he judges it a good thing for Peter. I wouldn't see him as passive--simply very tactful and skilled in handling Peter.