Major Putnam

Quick Facts

• Bold first mention: Major Putnam is a retired Anglo-Indian army major, the jovial host of Colonel Cray, and guardian to Audrey Watson—and secretly the story’s antagonist in “The Salad of Colonel Cray.”
• First appearance: He bursts into the garden after a gunshot, grinning in striped scarlet-and-yellow pyjamas, and promptly frames the event as a simple burglary.
• Home and habits: An English villa stuffed with “idols, weapons, and so on,” and a kitchen he presides over like a chef; he is renowned for his menus and lectures on cookery.
• Key relationships: Colonel Cray (old comrade and intended victim), Audrey Watson (ward and object of his possessive love), Dr. Oliver Oman (rival suitor and early skeptic).

Who They Are

On the surface, Major Putnam is the soul of hospitality: a laughing, lobster-faced gourmet who delights in menus and conviviality. In truth, he is the story’s quiet murderer, a man who uses charm as camouflage and domestic ritual as a weapon. He crystallizes the theme of The Deceptiveness of Appearances: the most genial face in the room may be the most dangerous. His villa—half English comfort, half trophies of empire—mirrors his dual nature, and his culinary zeal proves to be less hobby than cover, the perfect stage for a poisoner’s performance.

Personality & Traits

Major Putnam’s genial exterior is strategic, not spontaneous. He curates himself as a harmless epicure—bald-headed, bull-necked, and grinning—so that his control of the social scene feels like generosity rather than domination. From that safe perch, he gaslights his “old crony,” choreographs evidence, and readies his table as a trap.

• Jovial epicure: He is “good-humoured,” with an “innocent grin,” and parades through scenes in gaudy pyjamas while discoursing on sauces and spice. His elaborate déjeuner and cooking lectures are not idle enthusiasms but the mise-en-scène for a murder.
• Deceptive manipulator: He seizes the narrative at once—“It was a burglar. Obviously it was a burglar.”—and later whispers, “I think he sometimes fancies things,” preemptively discrediting Cray’s fears. The fake burglary and staged concern allow him to pose as protector while he is the persecutor.
• Cunning and ruthless: Drawing on Anglo-Indian experience, he selects a subtle poison and slowly unnerves Cray before the attempt. The sophistication of the method—difficult to trace, embedded in domestic ritual—reveals calculation, not impulse.
• Possessive jealousy: His motive is not money but Audrey Watson. The “kind guardian” arranges her absence (sending her to church) to clear the field for the crime, exposing a dark, proprietorial love masked as paternal care.
• Control through benevolence: “I doubt whether I should send for the police…” sounds like concern for a friend, but it’s a move to keep law and scrutiny at bay—he governs the room by appearing to safeguard it.

Character Journey

Major Putnam does not evolve; he is unveiled. First, we meet the merry, slightly buffoonish major, fussing over menus and making light of danger. Then he tightens his grip on the narrative—dismissing Cray’s terror as mere fancy, guiding everyone away from the police, and inviting them to the very meal that will deliver the poison. As Father Brown quietly tests the story’s seams, the genial mask slips: the “burglar” turns out to be a prop, the cookery a pretext, the smiling host a would-be killer. Exposure brings not contrition but flight—his last line a final feint at respectability before escape.

Key Relationships

• Colonel Cray: The friendship is a weapon Putnam wields with ease. He exploits Cray’s trust to isolate him psychologically, then prepares to eliminate him physically, all while publicly presenting himself as the steady caretaker of an unstable comrade.
• Audrey Watson: As guardian, Putnam performs paternal kindness; as suitor in disguise, he is possessive. His arrangements for Audrey’s day—especially sending her to church—are less courtesy than choreography, clearing witnesses so jealousy can act.
• Dr. Oliver Oman: Oman’s quiet watchfulness threatens Putnam’s scheme. Putnam underestimates him, as he underestimates all “outsiders” to his staged domestic scene, which allows outside observation to become the thread that unravels his plot.
• Father Brown: The major’s practiced geniality fails against an observer who listens more to moral timbre than to appearances. Brown’s calm attentiveness strips away the “burglar” tale, the culinary theater, and the friendly veneer until only motive and method remain.

Defining Moments

Even his entrances and exits are performances, each designed to steer interpretation and suppress suspicion.

• The comic entrance: He appears after the gunshot in glaring pyjamas, grinning. Why it matters: The silliness lowers everyone’s guard; the clown can direct the play.
• Framing the incident: “It was a burglar. Obviously it was a burglar.” Why it matters: He supplies a ready-made plot, discouraging inquiry and fixing a false frame before evidence forms.
• Gaslighting Cray: Confiding, “I think he sometimes fancies things,” he paints fear as delusion. Why it matters: By pre-labeling the victim, he inoculates the room against believing future claims.
• The poisoned luncheon: He plans a special déjeuner and lectures on cookery as he serves. Why it matters: Domestic ritual becomes the delivery system for murder; hospitality disguises hostility.
• The flight: Exposed, he cries, “A crime! I will go for the police!” and bolts. Why it matters: His last line is still theater—an attempted exit under the banner of civic virtue.

Essential Quotes

Major Putnam was a bald-headed, bull-necked man, short and very broad, with one of those rather apoplectic faces that are produced by a prolonged attempt to combine the oriental climate with the occidental luxuries. But the face was a good-humoured one, and even now, though evidently puzzled and inquisitive, wore a kind of innocent grin.

This physical portrait fuses indulgence with innocence, preparing the reader to underestimate him. Chesterton lets the “innocent grin” do narrative work: it preemptively excuses, so that later control can pass for amiability.

"It was a burglar. Obviously it was a burglar."

The repetition and the word “obviously” are rhetorical bludgeons—Putnam installs a conclusion before facts can be weighed. It’s his first act of narrative dominion: naming the cause to prevent the cause from being found.

"I doubt whether I should send for the police, for fear my friend here has been a little too free with his bullets, and got on the wrong side of the law. He’s lived in very wild places; and, to be frank with you, I think he sometimes fancies things."

This speech masquerades as loyalty while isolating Cray. Putnam both keeps the authorities away and brands the victim unreliable, a double move that protects the killer and erodes the target’s credibility.

"A crime!" he cried hoarsely. "I will go for the police!"

Even in collapse, he clings to the persona of responsible citizen. The hoarseness betrays panic, but the words attempt one last disguise—turning flight into duty, and guilt into guardianship.