you and I would never have thought of. We have this excuse,
that we had no idea of his existence until he was hit upon; but no
more had _Weathershaw_. Now I am not going to give away the secret
of this enticing affair, but I must dispute the detective's
identification, on the last page but one, of the man responsible for
_Sir Cheville's_ death. If you compare the statement of fact on page
301, seven lines from the bottom, which corroborates that on page
279, also seven lines from the bottom, with _Weathershaw's_ dramatic
accusation, you will understand what I mean and you will be left
in considerable doubt (as I was) of what the author means. Does he
suggest that _Sir Cheville_ was never murdered at all? After so much
excitement that would be a sad pity.

* * * * *

The publishers of _The Amorous Cheat_ (CHATTO AND WINDUS) generously
label it "an enthralling story of domestic and stage life." To which
my comment must be, that the domesticity supplied by the hero's family
and their quite uninteresting hesitations between town and suburban
residence are entirely nebulous and illusive, that the stage as
background has no significance one way or other, but that the
impropriety upon which (I must say frankly) the appeal of the book
seems to depend is given without stint, in a measure that certainly
may, for some readers, justify the publishers' epithet. You will
understand therefore that I experience a little natural hesitation
about suggesting the intrigue. It is certainly of the simplest--a mere
question as to whether _Edward_ and _Vivian_, casual acquaintances
of a restaurant, shall or shall not spend a sequence of week-ends
together. The lady is described as on the stage, but she might as well
belong to a guild of art-needlework. _Edward_ is the only question of
importance, and the week-ends; if you ponder the significance of the
title you can probably guess the rest. To be honest I ought to add
that Mr. BASIL CREIGHTON wields an easy-flowing pen, and that at least
one chapter certainly is wickedly entertaining, in the style of what
we used to call "Continental" humour. To sum up, not a novel
for family reading or for the fastidious. The others may even be
enthralled.

* * * * *

_The Diary of a Sportsman Naturalist in India_ (LANE) contains an
excellent collection of sporting anecdotes, and dip where you may you
will find none of them trivial or tiresome