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Cheyney wrote numerous pieces for many publications, including regular articles for Tit-Bits and short stories published in magazines and newspapers the world over. His first stories were published in the London Evening Standard and led directly to his first published novel (see Life Chapter 3). Just a few of the specific publications were:
• Pictured below are six stories in the Star Weekly Complete Novel series, published as tabloid pull-outs by The Toronto Star, in Canada in the late 1940s and early 50s.
• The Creasey Mystery Magazine
Dalrow Publishing Company, ed. Leslie Syddall
• vol 1, no.2, Sept 1956
The Humour of Huang Chen
(You Can’t Hit a Woman and Other Stories, Collins, 1937)
• vol 1, no.3, Oct 1956
The Rope
(MacKill’s Mystery Magazine, Dec 1952)
• vol 1, no.4, Dec 1956
Sleeping Car
(Information Received and Other Stories, Bantam Books, 1948, originally as The Sleeping Car)
• vol 1, no.6, Feb 1957
A Matter of Habit
(MacKill’s Mystery Magazine, Aug 1954)
• vol 1, no.9, May 1957
Philosopher
(MacKill's Mystery Magazine, Apr 1953, originally as The Philosopher)
• The Thriller Library Magazine
G-Men at the Yard
1937: Jun 26 (no.438)
Dames Don’t Care
1937: Jul 31 (no.443), Aug 7 (no.444), Aug 14 (no.445), Aug 21 (no.446), Aug 28 (no.447), Sept 4 (no.448), Sept 11 (no.449), Sept 18 (no.450)
• MacKill’s Mystery Magazine
Bread Upon the Waters
May 1953
Sleeping Car
v4 #2 1954
The Rope
Dec 1952
The Philosopher
Mar, Apr 1953
The Gangster
Jun 1953
• The Saint Detective Magazine
Love Can Be Deadly
Mar 1955
• John Bull
Esteban
23 July 1949
Account Overdue
24 September 1949
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Peter Cheyney audio books currently available from Soundings: http://www.isis-publishing.co.uk/
IT COULDN’T MATTER LESS read by David Wade
5 Audio Cassettes • 6hrs
Intelligent brunettes of Slim Callaghan’s acquaintance weren’t into the habit of pretending to be drunk. Foreigners didn’t usually pay him a hundred pounds to mind his own business when he hadn’t been doing otherwise. Callaghan was curious; especially as his old friend Gringall of Scotland Yard was mixed up in the affair.
DANGEROUS CURVES read by David Wade
5 Audio Cassettes • 7hrs 30mins
A lady has to have more than beauty and breeding to stop private agent Slim Callaghan doing things his own way. Mrs Riverton had plenty of both, but when she started to interfere in Slim’s search for her stepson, things hotted up. Slim’s motto was “we get there somehow and who the hell cares”. The trouble was, someone did care.
CALLING MR. CALLAGHAN read by Peter Wheeler
3 Audio Cassettes • 4hrs 30mins
A fast-moving story of detectives, gamesters, thieves and hard-living, beautiful women. A glorious pattern of excitement and suspense, of cross and double-cross.
SORRY YOU’VE BEEN TROUBLED read by Terry Wale
7 Audio Cassettes • 10hrs 30mins
Slim Callaghan – dead bodies – beautiful women – fast cars. A story that will keep you guessing, banish your blues, put back the twinkle in your eye!
previously available titles
UNEASY TERMS read by David Wade
The irascible step-father of three beautiful girls is found brutally murdered. Slim Callaghan tries to solve the murder in a household in which every word has a hidden meaning, where every move might end in a highly unpleasant death.
THEY NEVER SAY WHEN read by Peter Joyce
Another action packed case for Slim Callaghan. Murder, revenge, villains and beautiful ladies – just another day for Slim.
THE URGENT HANGMAN read by Nigel Stanger
Slim Callaghan is hired by Cynthia Meraulton to stop her cousins getting her stepfather’s money. But when the old man is murdered, she is the suspect – with no alibi and every motive.
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| Stage lyrics
REGINALD - THE CHEESE!
’m a fellow who is stared at in the street,
Though I never really could discover why;
But small boys shout out, ‘Guv’nor, you’ve got dripping in yer ’air’,
And, ‘Why don’t yer take that window from yer eye?’
Of course they really envy me because I’m debonair,
Nonchalant, cool, collected as you please–
Well, I’m dev’lish good at knitting–
Gambling – I’ve lost threepence at one sitting,
I’m Reginald, just Reginald, the Cheese!
PATTER
When I stroll into a restaurant the women thrill with joy,
I’m a picture, I’m so handsome I could cry,
I’m a devil for a beano – just like Rudolph Valentino,
Only more so – when I really like to try.
I’m a joy at every dinner – I’m a first-class blue-eyed winner,
My style’s so deuced absolutely cute:
When to girls I raise my bowler – I’m the juicy gorgonzola,
I’m Reginald – just Reginald – the Fruit.
THE MADMAN’S WILL
courtesy of Make Em Laugh! [see LINKS]
1925, Peter Cheyney and Richard Arpthorp,
performed by Albert Whelan
In a work-house ward that was cold and bare,
The doctor sat on a creaking chair,
By the side of a dying madman’s bed.
“He can’t last much longer,” the doctor said.
But nobody cares if a pauper lives,
And nobody cares when a pauper’s dead.
The old man sighed, the doctor rose.
And bent his head o’er the ricketty bed,
To catch the weak words one by one—
To smile—as the dying madman said: —
“Beneath my pillow when I am gone—
Search—hidden there you will find it still!”
“Find what, old madman?” the doctor asked,
And the old man said, as he died, “My WILL.”
How they all laughed at the splendid jest—
A pauper madman to leave a will.
And they straightened him out for his final rest,
In the lonely graveyard over the hill,
And the doctor searched for the paper and found
The red taped parchment—untied it with zest,
Whilst the others laughingly gathered round
To hear the cream of the madman’s jest.
Then the doctor with mocking solemnity said,
“Silence, my friends,” and the Will he read.
“I leave to the children the green fields,
The fresh country lanes for their play,
The stories of fairies and dragons,
The sweet smell of heather and hay.
I leave to young maidens romantic
The dreaming which all maidens do.
And the wish that some day in the future
Their happiest dreams will come true.
To youth I leave all youth’s ambition,
Desire, love, impetuous hate.
And to youth with years I leave wisdom,
And the hope that it comes not too late.
I leave to the lovers the gloaming,
The time when all troubles are old,
When true love, hand in hand, goes aroaming
To the heart of the sunset of gold
To the mother I leave children’s voices
And curly heads close on her breast,
The soft whispered prayer that rejoices
Her heart as she puts them to rest.
I leave to old people sweet memories,
And smiles that endure to the last,
With never a fear for the future,
And not a regret for the past.
I die without earthly possessions,
Without the last word of a friend,
To you all I leave good cheer and friendship
That lasts through all time to the end.
I leave to the wide world my blessing
In the hope that the long years will find
That my wishes shall grow like a flower,
And bring God’s good peace to mankind”.
The ward doctor laid down the parchment,
His smile had gone—turned into pain.
The faces around laughed no longer,
But grew grave with regret that was vain.
No wonder that he looks so happy,
Whilst we who derided are sad,
For the things he has left are the best things in life
“I wonder if he was mad?”
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