not quite share my own
taste in such matters, since he promises that his Investigator shall
keep no secrets and observe nothing withheld from the eye of the
reader. So faithful is the author to this undertaking that he
practically keeps his expert hanging about with the unenlightened
crowd, while another character, in light-hearted amateur enthusiasm,
does all the work. But of course, in a tale of this kind, the only
thing that really matters is the one question of spotting the
criminal, or who killed Cock Robin. Naturally I am not going to spoil
your fun over this by any officious whisperings. As you probably know,
the one safe rule in such matters is to concentrate upon Caesar's wife;
and even in repeating this antique maxim I may have betrayed too
much. Forget it, and you may find what happened _In the Night_
a sufficiently intriguing problem to provide a pleasant bedtime
entertainment that will leave your subsequent repose unimpaired.

In deciding to add to what one may call the fiction of Metropolitan
Adventures, whereof _The New Arabian Nights_ may be regarded as both
the model and the prototype, the author of _The London Nights
of Belsize_ (LANE) has undertaken a task which is both easy and
difficult--easy because a sophisticated style and a lively imagination
are the only essential qualifications, and difficult because it
involves competition with a perfect galaxy of distinguished authors.
There is always room for more of it, however, and, if Mr. VERNON
RENDALL disappoints us, it is not merely because the standard has
been set unusually high. His style is smooth and assured, and, though
somewhat lacking in humour, his touch is light and pleasing. He begins
well and interests us in his principal character so that we look
forward with zest to the adventures of a personality which is
everything that this sort of fiction requires. Here unfortunately the
matter ends. _Belsize_, who promises so much, has no adventures worth
the name. It is true that he rescues the _Prince of Mingrelia_, runs
to earth a gang of highly-educated and aesthetic criminals, and does
other things that we properly expect such men to do. But there is no
excitement about his methods. Not to put too fine a point on it, the
author of _Belsize_ lacks the true imagination that makes the unreal
seem real--a very different thing from the imagination which merely
clothes realities in a garment of mystery. Notwithstanding this
defect, _The London Night