Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

‘He has publicly stated that homosexual indulgence is a shameful vice and a grievous sin from which deliverance is to be sought by every means . . .’
    ‘Do you think this applies as much to consenting adults over the age of twenty-one, and acting in private, as it does to what the archbishop might call “other deviants”?’ Sidney asked.
    ‘The archbishop makes no distinction. Every act is equally sinful.’
    ‘And do you think it applies just as much to gestures of affection, holding hands, kissing and so forth, as it does to what Lord Samuel recently referred to in the House of Lords as “the vices of Sodom and Gomorrah of the cities of the plain”?’
    Leonard began to start on the washing up. ‘Again, the archbishop makes no distinction.’
    Sidney picked up a tea towel and continued. ‘Yet many of those who are homosexually inclined have begun to suggest that their inclinations are a misfortune, or even a fortune that they cannot control and which, with a clear conscience they can indulge . . .’
    ‘The archbishop has directed us to think that they are mistaken and that they should see their doctors.’
    ‘Do you agree with the archbishop, Leonard?’
    Leonard placed a dish on the rack to dry. ‘It is not my place to make any public pronouncement contrary to my archbishop.’
    ‘And what should be done with such people?’
    ‘There are, a recent report in The Times newspaper informs us, “physical measures to diminish the sexual impulse”. The main difficulty, however – and it is, to those in the medical profession, apparently a “baffling” one – is the frequent unwillingness of the offender to face his problem and co-operate in seeking a solution.’
    ‘The offender feels that his behaviour is not a crime but a natural condition?’
    ‘That is what has been suggested, Sidney. Whereas His Grace firmly believes that such behaviour is a shameful vice that must be punished, ultimately by imprisonment, for the protection and well-being of society as a whole.’
    ‘And do you think His Grace believes that locking such people up for eighteen hours out of twenty-four, in solitary confinement, where a perpetrator of such vice may meditate on his past and contemplate his future, is likely to result in the reform of his character?’
    ‘His Grace has not vouchsafed to comment on the matter.’
    Sidney began to dry the water glasses. ‘I also wonder whether one might possibly consider that personal feelings, expressed in private, should be a matter for legislation? It could, perhaps, be argued that the more of an individual’s private life you bring within the criminal law, the less you leave to be lived on the basis of free moral choice.’
    ‘You ask a valid question, Sidney, but it is one that I do not feel qualified to answer. I would, however, draw your attention to the fact that of the Ten Commandments, only three are embodied in criminal law: theft, perjury and, of course, murder.’
    ‘And it is on murder, rather than any attendant moral deviance, that you feel we should concentrate our thoughts at present?’
    ‘Exactly so, Sidney. I do not think an investigation into any man’s private life can be as important as that.’
    ‘Then we are agreed,’ Sidney concluded, uncertain quite whether he had discovered anything other than his curate’s relentless ability to answer every question with a straight bat.
     
    However, before Sidney could continue with his investigation into the death of Lord Teversham, and while he was preparing to write the introduction to his parish magazine, Amanda telephoned and insisted that he come to London as soon as possible. She had something to tell him and it was, apparently, urgent.
    Sidney knew that he did not have the time, and that her urgencies existed in a strangely privileged parallel universe, but his affection for Amanda had reached a level where it had become impossible to refuse her requests, and so they met for cocktails at the Savoy. This was the hotel, Sidney remembered grimly, where Oscar Wilde had once stayed with his friend Lord Alfred Douglas.
    Outside, a man was pacing up and down with a placard declaring ‘THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH’.
    ‘There’s no need to rub it in,’ Amanda remarked as they passed him.
    She took off her coat to reveal a black cocktail dress with a low neckline and a string of pearls that made her look like Ava Gardner. Sidney felt positively seedy in her company and wished either that he had the kind