British Library Crime Classics, Golden Age

Mystery in White by J. Jefferson Farjeon

MysteryinWhiteI thought that I would draw my week of Christmassy reads to a close today with a look at one of the most popular reissued Golden Age works in recent years, Mystery in White by J. Jefferson Farjeon. While I own several Farjeon books, they just sat in my to read pile so this was not only my first experience of reading this book but also with this author.

The story begins with a train stuck on the line during a thick snow storm. One of the passengers runs off the train with a shout, another makes the decision to leave and then a short while later the rest of the group go in search of that passenger. They end up getting disoriented during the storm and, when one of their number gets injured and passes out, they decide to take shelter in a seemingly abandoned house.

While it seems to be deserted, there is tea boiling on the stove and provisions laid out. And when they explore the house they find a locked upstairs room where they seem to hear someone yet when they return a short while later the door is open and the room is empty. And then there is the matter of the knife left on the floor…

The chapters in which we first encounter and explore the house were by far the most successful ones for me. While the house seems quite normal, lacking blood on the walls or the sounds of screams coming from some secret chamber, it is nonetheless a little unsettling because Farjeon establishes the oddness of this setting so well. We know that there has been a thick snow storm making it unlikely that whoever prepared the tea might choose to leave and yet they are not there.

The matter of the locked room is similarly extremely effective and mysterious, only adding to the house’s intrigue. I wondered what may have been behind that door and who could have opened it when the key was on the inside and no one was seen inside the house. When we did receive an explanation I thought it was clever, simple and highly effective and only added to the story’s intrigue.

And yet…

I had loved the opening and found it to be mysterious and intriguing yet I found myself disengaging from the text in the material that followed the feverish dream sequence. I tried taking a break from the book, returning to it later and I still couldn’t really get into it although I did summon enough energy and enthusiasm to finish it.

I think there are a few reasons that I struggled with the book beyond the most obvious one that any book that my expectations may have been too high coming into it. The first thing that struck me is that Farjeon makes heavy use of dialogue here, often having group conversations take place with multiple participants. He does not always attribute speech clearly and seems to be assuming that his characters are sufficiently well-defined to make it easy for the reader to follow. Sadly, I did not find that to be the case and at times I felt it pulled me out of the story.

The second is that I didn’t care much for the character of Mr. Maltby who falls into the role of the sleuth by the end of the story. He got off to a bad start with me when he stated that he could commune with spirits but whatever goodwill I had towards him evaporated with his early displays of pedantic thoroughness in his interactions with the other passengers. I was also a little frustrated that it seems he solves this case more through intuition, instantly recognizing the importance of a seemingly mundane item.

Finally, I felt that it was hard to invest in the idea of solving the murders that take place when we really have so little sense of who these victims are for much of the book. This didn’t bother me for the first half of the story because there Farjeon devotes his energies to establishing the strange, Marie Celeste-like qualities of the house but once we are trying to understand murder I think the novel needed to become more focused.

In spite of those complaints, there were some parts of the novel that I did respond to. Of all of the books I have read this week I felt that this made the most use of the season both in terms of the hostile weather conditions and also in its awareness of the holidays. I also found the setting to be very effective and while I may not have liked Maltby much, I did appreciate that Farjeon has the other passengers (except Smith) engage in the investigation.

While I was disappointed with Mystery in White, I did wonder if I just picked up this book at the wrong moment. Certainly some people whose views I often agree with have read and enjoyed this which is enough to give me pause and make me feel like the odd one out. Perhaps some day I will revisit this to see if I like it more on a second try but, for now, I cannot personally recommend this and would steer people looking for an entertaining Golden Age mystery set at Christmas to gift to friends, family or just themselves to look at either Portrait of a Murderer or The Crime at the Noah’s Ark instead. Do be sure to get a second opinion of this one before you pass on it though because I believe I am out of step with the general consensus on this story.

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British Library Crime Classics, Golden Age, Short Stories

Crimson Snow, ed. Martin Edwards

CrimsonHaving mentioned last week that I can struggle to enjoy short mystery fiction, was I asking for trouble by picking up one of the British Library Crime Classics compilations? Perhaps, though given one of the most iconic Christmas mystery stories is barely twenty pages long I think this is exactly the sort of thing I need to be reading.

This collection is edited by Martin Edwards and comprises eleven stories. One of those stories, Mr. Cork’s Secret, is split within the book to mirror how it was originally published – with the mystery published inviting readers to send in solutions and the answer following some time later.

There is a short introductory essay and then each story is prefaced with a brief biographical note about the writer placing that work in context. This is not only useful background for the work, it also gave me a few suggestions for other books that may be of interest by some of the contributing authors.

Overall, I felt that the standard of story in this collection was very high and it begins on a high note with Fergus Hume’s The Ghost’s Touch. This is an entertaining story which is narrated by a Doctor who has been invited to a country home to stay for Christmas. The owner of the house has also invited his Australian cousin to visit and regales them with the story of how the Blue Room became haunted and how those who stay there and wake up marked with a red touch die shortly afterwards. The reader will naturally wonder if events will repeat themselves?

Admittedly the solution to Hume’s story will be fairly obvious but I felt that this was a great example of how a simple idea, told well can be very effective.

The second story, Edgar Wallace’s The Chopham Affair, was my least favorite of the collection. It involves a blackmailer being discovered dead in a car next to a car thief. Fortunately it is followed by Margery Allingham’s The Man with the Sack which sees Mr. Campion interrupting a rather unusual crime during a Christmas party. It all makes for a fun adventure.

S. C. Roberts’ Christmas Eve immediately stands out as it is formatted as a stage play. The piece is a rather fun Holmes pastiche in which a woman comes to see Holmes to assist in the recovery of her employer’s stolen necklace. While the crime is not the most ingenious, I enjoyed it and felt it was quite entertaining.

Victor Gunn’s Death in December was one of the two stories I enjoyed most in this collection. Once again we have a story that echoes the traditional Christmas ghost story when a young man locks himself in a supposedly haunted room and sees a dead body that vanishes when the other guests at the house come to see what has terrified him.

Gunn packs a lot of incident into his story, making this feel like one of the more substantial stories in the collection. Once again, the solution to what is going on may not surprise but I enjoyed the two investigators, particularly the gruff Chief Inspector Bill “Ironsides” Cromwell.

Christopher Bush’s Murder at Christmas investigates the murder of a financial swindler in a small village. The story doesn’t overstay its welcome which I appreciated but I wasn’t wowed by the solution. I might suggest though that this reflects that it simply isn’t as good as the stories around it, rather than actually being disappointing.

Off the Tiles by Ianthe Jerrold features a suspicious death when a woman falls while walking along the guttering between houses. We are told that this is perfectly safe in normal circumstances and the victim’s sister insists that this is no accident. I wasn’t enormously drawn in by the premise for this one but I liked its resolution quite a bit.

Mr. Cork’s Secret by MacDonald Hastings was my other favorite story in this collection. As I mentioned in the opening of this review, this story was intentionally split in two to accommodate a competition that its publisher ran with a cash prize being offered to a lucky reader who could guess the answer to a question at the end.

That answer is not all that difficult to come by as the reader can stay ahead of the character in the sleuth role. I felt the story was appealing though with some entertaining characters, particularly the hotel manager and Mr. Cork himself.

The Santa Claus Club is a very short story featuring a murder taking place at a charity dinner party. The victim had been warned to expect an attack but initially it is far from clear how they could have been killed. While it embraces the Christmas theme more effectively than some of the other stories in the collection, the mystery is one of those ones where the reader has little they can deduce while the action isn’t exciting enough to make for an effective adventure.

Michael Gilbert’s Deep and Crisp and Even felt more successful although it arguably feels a little pointless. The story, which once again feels very short, involves a group of carollers arriving at a house and realizing after they left that there was something strange about their visit. That realization is really pretty good but the story doesn’t follow through at all, making you wonder why you bothered.

The final story in the collection, The Carol Singers, is a very depressing and, for me, upsetting story about an elderly woman who is alone for the holidays being assaulted and killed in her home during Christmas. That sequence is all rather brutal but quite effective. The foray into social realism turns out to be quite brief however as an aspect of the solution to what took place, while logical, struck me as both ridiculous and out of keeping with what had come before it. Overall I’d file this one away as intriguing but flawed.

As a collection I felt this was really quite entertaining and I appreciated the good mix of stories. While not all of them could be called completely successful, almost all are at least interesting and I found a few authors whose work I am keen to explore further.

Book of the Month, British Library Crime Classics, Golden Age, Inverted

Portrait of a Murderer by Anne Meredith

PortraitThe festive season is upon us and so I plan to mark the occasion in my own way by reading five books which feature people being murdered against snowy, picturesque backdrops.

I am kicking off the week of reviews with a book that was published as part of the British Library Crime Classics collection. This will not be the only book I will be selecting from that series this week!

This novel is credited to Anne Meredith which, it turns out, was a pseudonym used by Lucy Beatrice Malleson of Anthony Gilbert fame. In a strange coincidence, I posted a response to a fellow blogger’s review last week while I was already reading this novel saying that I needed to try something by Anthony Gilbert and asking for suggestions. In my defense, I tend to skip over the introductions until after I have read the main text for fear of being spoiled.

I first learned about this book from reading a review on crossexaminingcrime. There were lots of reasons I was excited to read this book but chief among them was that Portrait of a Murderer is an inverted mystery. Those who have been following this blog for a while may have noticed that I am having something of a love affair with this form of crime fiction and so this was a particular attraction for me as I was curious to see how a different author would approach writing this type of story.

Typically the inverted crime novel gives the reader knowledge of the killer’s identity and presents the crime and the events that follow from their perspective. While we may know the killer’s identity, the mystery comes from the reader wondering how they will either be caught or evade justice.

In Portrait of a Murderer the author makes some slight tweaks to that formula to create a story that I think combines the best of both worlds by shifting perspectives throughout. She does this by dividing her novel into three distinct sections.

The first and shortest is a series of chapters, written in the third person, that introduce each of the potential killers who will arrive at Kings Poplars to speak with Adrian Gray in the hope of extracting money from him. Throughout this stage we have little idea who will be responsible for killing Gray and so the question is who will kill him and what will have occurred that pushed them over the edge.

The second section brings a shift into a first person narration style as we hear that character recount the events that led them to murder Gray and how they plan on escaping from the situation. The decision to shift to the first person is a smart one, allowing the reader to understand the rationale behind the decisions they are making to dress the crime scene in the hopes of making their escape. This section concludes at about the halfway point of the novel.

The final section switches back to the third person and begins shortly before the discovery of the body. The author presents us with several different characters who are trying to piece together what has happened and so, in addition to wondering if and how the murderer will be caught and how the lives of the other family members will be affected. We may also wonder who will manage to work out what had happened.

I absolutely loved this book and I think its success begins with this unusual structure. By shifting our point of perspective throughout the novel, the author provides variety within their narrative. This helps keep the material from becoming stale or repetitive, as can sometimes happen with a character who is continually worrying about being caught, and it allows us to experience multiple perspectives on the crime.

For instance, in the chapters that follow the murder we get to see how the various characters are responding to the crime that had been committed and how they are feeling about each other. This gives those characters added depth and also allows us to see their different perspectives of what a positive outcome to the investigation would be as well as the different ways that it affects their lives which is often quite unexpected.

Meredith’s characterization is as impressive as her structure and I was fascinated by the cast of family members that she creates. Each of them feel quite distinctive and have complex feelings towards Adrian Gray and each other. They have different goals that create division, in one instance between a married couple, and we learn how the possible suspects have each fallen into quite separate, dire financial circumstances that threaten to destroy them. These stories are all quite compelling and I thought the novel was unusually reflective about the different ways in which the murder will affect their lives going forward while the ending strikes a curious note that I wish I could discuss in more detail but fear I can’t without spoiling. I can say though that I found it to be quite effective.

These elements all combine to make one of the most interesting books I have read in the British Library Crime Classics series to date. With striking characters, moments of social commentary and a compelling plot, I found myself gripped throughout and thoroughly enjoyed its conclusion. I will clearly need to seek out some Anthony Gilbert books soon…

British Library Crime Classics, Golden Age

Quick Curtain by Alan Melville

QuickCurtainDeath of Anton was one of the earliest books I reviewed on this blog and I gave it a glowing review. I was excited at the news that Quick Curtain would be released this month and the moment my copy arrived I set all my other books aside in favor of it.

The book begins at the opening night of a lavishly produced musical spectacular that a Scotland Yard detective and his journalist son happen to be attending. The play seems to be going well until a pivotal scene in which a character is supposed to be shot. The stage death turns out to be all too real and the play must be halted. Before he can be questioned the actor who fired the shot is discovered dead in his dressing room, apparently from suicide.

The initial assumption is that J. Hillary Foster shot Brandon Baker either deliberately or unwittingly, and then in a fit of remorse took his own life. Inspector Wilson takes a different view, suspecting foul play, and works with his son Derek to try to solve the case.

The first thing to say is that, to an even greater extent than with Death of AntonQuick Curtain is written as an out-and-out comedy. Though it may adhere to the general structure of a detective story, the author’s primary purpose and source of amusement is in its satirical commentary on the theatrical and show business communities rather than constructing a clever crime and challenging the reader to solve it.

So, is it funny?

Obviously taste in comedy is very subjective and so I will dodge the question a little by saying that this is exactly the sort of material that will delight some readers while infuriating others. I personally fall into the earlier category, being rather partial to theatrical satire and there are certainly plenty of jabs made at producers, actors, landladies at theatrical digs and reviewers. Fans of Simon Brett’s Charles Paris will likely be in heaven as will anyone who enjoys irreverent banter in an interwar style.

The most successful material seems to fall in the first half of the book as Melville often throws in amusing character details and commentary in the process of introducing characters. I particularly enjoyed the outline he gives us of the career of the show’s producer, Mr. Douglas B. Douglas who is something of a master publicist and the introduction of the reviewer who pens his reviews before actually seeing the production.

As entertaining as some of the comedic commentary can be though, there were times where I found myself wishing that the jokes were being made in service of the mystery itself. Often these asides seem to interrupt the story, a problem that becomes more frustrating as the story develops.

The lack of focus on developing the mystery and the investigation means that the case feels bland and underdeveloped. I felt that this was a deliberate choice on Melville’s part, especially in light of its ending, but I did not find it a particularly satisfying one. Some key developments seem to happen in spite of the actions of the main characters rather than resulting from their efforts and there is frustratingly little in the way of actual detection taking place.

The father and son detective pairing are irreverent, continually riffing comically on the situations in which they find themselves. This dialogue can be amusing and clever but it causes issues of balance within the novel because it seems to minimize the importance of the investigation. Two years later in Death of Anton, Melville found a stronger approach by having his hero, Mr. Minto, take his investigation seriously in spite of some farcical events taking place around him. That provided a welcome contrast between comedy and mystery elements – here the former absolutely subsumes the latter.

The reader’s satisfaction therefore is likely going to come down to the manner in which they approach the novel. Those who come at it expecting something lighthearted and diverting are more likely to put it down satisfied than those hoping for a good puzzle mystery. Though the observations on aspects of theatrical life will leave some cold, I personally found them to be very enjoyable and felt that these observations and the quality of the theatrical satire was of a very high standard.

Unfortunately I cannot issue an enthusiastic recommendation in the manner I did for Death of Anton but nonetheless I did find the book to be an entertaining read and think it is worth a look for fans of comedic adventure stories. I am still looking forward to when Weekend at Thrackley, another Melville story, gets released as part of the British Library Crime Classics range next year and I hope that I will be more impressed with that effort.

British Library Crime Classics, Freeman Wills Crofts, Golden Age, Inverted

The 12.30 From Croydon by Freeman Wills Crofts

FromCroydonAt the start of this month I published my thoughts on Antidote to Venom, a later novel by Freeman Wills Crofts that has some structural similarities to this one. Both titles are examples of the inverted mystery form in which we experience events from the perspective of the murderer as they plan and execute the seemingly perfect murder. Unfortunately both books feature bland detective Inspector French.

There is some good news however for those who are French-averse. The 12.30 From Croydon really keeps the detective in the background for almost the whole narrative as our murderer is largely in the dark about what French is up to.

The novel begins with a trip being made to France by aircraft when one of the passengers is found to have died during the flight. Crofts then has us jump back in time several months to see the events leading up to that moment from the murderer’s perspective.

As with many inverted mysteries, our killer is a character who finds themselves in need of financial relief. Charles Swinburn is the owner of a factory that is increasingly stretched as it struggles to survive an economic downturn. It is becoming increasingly clear that the company will not be able to compete for contracts without significant investment being made but Charles himself is stretched and keen to maintain his quality of life as he seeks to marry.

Charles needs a speedy windfall and he has an elderly relative who might just provide that. During those early chapters we see the character start to develop his plan, prepare to execute it and start to come up with justifications for his actions such as protecting the livelihoods of his employees. He is perhaps a little less sympathetic than George Surridge was in Antidote to Venom as it is quite clear that he is entirely the architect of his own destruction, but that does not make him any the less interesting.

Experienced from his perspective, Charles’ plan seems quite ingenious and almost undetectable. We might come to share his sense of confidence in that plan as he works through each step as, unlike in Antidote, the plan is entirely of his own devising and he has sole responsibility for its execution. Perhaps more importantly, because French’s investigation occurs largely in the background, we are unaware what he has learned and how he is piecing things together and so we may well wonder how French could possibly deduce Charles’ involvement and how the thing was managed.

The explanation occurs in an extremely well-managed conclusion and everything is laid out very clearly. Because some of that explanation is given by French it is still a little dry but here at least I can see some basis for JJ’s argument made in the comments of my previous review that French’s plodding style makes the strength of his deductive reasoning the focus rather than the detective’s flourishes of brilliance or dramatic gestures. Certainly I thought that the resolution to the story was extremely well managed and I was impressed by the detective’s chain of reasoning that leads him to his conclusion.

While I do think the resolution of this novel is far more entertaining than that of Antidote to Venom, I do think there are a few ways in which this story compares a little less favorably. For instance, while the murder method employed here is certainly more credible, it is also a little more straightforward and familiar. I also think that our sympathy for George gave his story an almost tragic quality yet in this novel Charles, for all of his attempts at justification, is clearly cast in the role of villain. As a result, this story feels a little less rich and complex and, judged purely as examples of the inverted mystery I would say that Antidote is the more interesting work.

If I was asked to pick between the two books however I would say that this is simply a more enjoyable tale to read. Partly that is because of French’s absence for much of the story but I also think that it comes down to a question of agency. Charles’ is ultimately responsible for his own actions and we feel closer to his thinking as he makes each decision that will ultimately lead him to destruction. After witnessing everything from his perspective, the ending has all the more punch. So much so that not even the inevitable tedious and long-winded explanation from French on the last few pages can spoil it!

 

British Library Crime Classics, George Bellairs, Golden Age

Death of a Busybody by George Bellairs

BusybodyMiss Tither, an elderly spinster who lives in the village of Hilary Magna, is widely regarded by her neighbors as a judgmental pest. She has routinely stuck her nose into their affairs, revealing perceived infidelities and berating those who are not religious with unwanted debate as well as pamphlets and tracts. Few in the village like her but, being a small community, there is shock when she is discovered drowned in the vicar’s cesspit.

Bellairs introduces us to a broad cast of possible suspects, most of whom she has wronged in some way. Given the complexity of the case, the local police decide to request that Scotland Yard provide some help, although they are careful to request someone with an understanding of country ways. Scotland Yard sends Inspector Littlejohn to investigate.

Right up front I want to acknowledge that this book does something I find deeply frustrating in novels: it features whole passages of speech from multiple characters written in phonetic dialect. This in itself is not enough for me to write off a book – after all, my favorite novel, Wuthering Heights, contains considerable amounts of dialogue styled in a rough Yorkshire voice – but I do find that approach frustrating for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, I rarely feel that the phonetic spellings produce an accurate rendering of a style of speech. More importantly though, it becomes a distraction as the reader is forced to devote much of their time to simply figuring out what on earth a character is saying. In this book a significant portion of the characters, including the village constable, are represented in this way which mostly served to distract me from other facets of the story.

On a more positive note, the manner of the crime is quite striking and the choice of Miss Tither’s final resting place is perhaps an example of the slightly subversive tone to be found in much of the novel. Some of Bellairs’ commentary can be rather amusing and the various village types are all well observed.

Other elements of the plotting seem a little shallow though and the story suffers a little from its clues being too clearly flagged to the reader. One instance of this is particularly frustrating as it involves a familiar Golden Age plotting trick that becomes very clear when highlighted for the reader directly in dialogue and once that point is settled on the rest falls into place very easily. While I am normally excited when I figure out the solution of a crime, here I felt the author had gifted it to me which was not particularly satisfying.

This is a shame because there is much here to admire. Bellairs writes some genuinely witty prose and creates a variety of striking and entertaining secondary characters to enjoy. The actual process of the investigation is well thought out and there is some solid detection work carried out both by Littlejohn and his helper in the city.

One of my favorite sequences involves a character named Cromwell carrying out a series of linked interviews. It is a nice piece of procedural detective work that is not overwritten but features both some fun examples of Bellairs’ wit and character observation and also some useful information that feeds into the broader case.

Unfortunately wit and investigation structure were unable to overcome my frustrations with the story drawing too much attention to one of the most important clues or with the mangled attempts at replicating country voices in prose. While the opening is strong and I thought there were some very solid moments, the piece did not capture my imagination the way I had hoped and once I had figured out the solution it struggled to hold my attention.

Having voiced my disappointment with this story, there were aspects of this book I enjoyed and I have already added some other Bellairs works to my to read pile. I am hoping that my next dip into his work proves a better match for me.

British Library Crime Classics, Freeman Wills Crofts, Golden Age, Inverted

Antidote to Venom by Freeman Wills Crofts

AntidoteAntidote to Venom is an example of a crime fiction sub-genre that I have absolutely fallen in love with over the past year: the inverted crime novel.

While I had been aware that there were mystery stories written from the perspective of the criminal, in the past year I have come to read several really excellent examples of this form, several of which are from this range of British Library Crime Classics. When written well, this allows the reader to experience the crime from the perpetrator’s perspective, understand their decision making and watch them sweat as the detective seems to get closer and closer. As the reader knows who did the crime and how, the question they must consider is just how the detective will manage to piece everything together.

Our criminal in this book is George Surridge, the director of the Birmington Zoo. At the start of the novel we learn that he is trapped in a marriage that has turned loveless and cold because he and his wife are unable to afford their lifestyle on his small salary. George feels sure that if only he could receive a promised inheritance from his Aunt, all of his problems would be solved…

A recurring theme of the inverted mystery form is that the events begin to spiral out of the murderer’s control, forcing increasingly reckless actions. When George meets a sweet and charming young woman he falls hopelessly in love with her and ends up making her his mistress, only exacerbating his financial woes. Ultimately these pressures all build on George and push him to commit murder in the hopes of staving off ruin and starting a new life for himself.

Crofts’ approach to writing is extremely methodical and, at times, seems to be a little ponderous and heavy-handed. This is particularly true of the end of the book which incorporates some spiritual reflection that can feel a little preachy and heavy-handed but the conclusion of the novel benefits from the clear and careful buildup as Wills is able to clearly explain to the reader what has happened and why.

George struck me as a convincing character, even if his plan for dispatching his victim seems ludicrously convoluted. He does some very grubby things in the course of this narrative, not least committing murder, yet I could understand his feelings of hopelessness and empathize with his desire to feel loved and a sense of affection.

The scheme that he utilizes to dispatch his victim is rather ingenious and quite memorable. It is certainly an original enough scheme that it threatens to stump Crofts’ series investigator, Inspector French, who finally shows up in the narrative’s final third to attempt to piece things together by being incredibly methodical and diligent.

The author, Freeman Wills Crofts, has something of a reputation as being quite a dull writer which I think is not particularly fair. I certainly have found several of his stories to be quite exciting and to be based on some interesting ideas. Yet while I think that descriptor is unfairly applied to the writer, I certainly think it can be used about his series detective.

I find it quite mystifying that a character such as Inspector French managed to appear in such a large number of books and yet seems so devoid of personality. While there is no questioning his brilliance at solving mysterious murders, I never feel he has a life beyond the narratives he gets caught up in. Here it is interesting to observe how he works to piece this case together when the murder method seemed so foolproof.

So, if the writing can be ponderous and the investigator is a bore, why do I like this book? Firstly, I think that the zoo setting is fun and quite memorable and I liked the way the zoo itself figures into the crime that is committed.

Secondly, George is an interesting and complex character. He does a terrible thing in the course of the story and yet we understand part of what has driven him to that place. While I think the elements of the ending reflecting issues of faith are heavy-handed, I did appreciate that Crofts is trying to introduce some ideas and a process of introspection for a character that are quite unusual in the genre.

Finally, the concept of the crime here is rather clever and it is the sort that sticks in the head. I was quite impressed by the way George attempts to set up the crime scene to hide his own involvement and I was curious to see how French would seek to piece things together.

Is it Crofts best work? No. Nor do I consider it to be even his best inverted mystery. Still, the story is quite pleasing in spite of its flaws and I resolved on completing the book that I would try to give French another shot soon.