ERT HARRISON had given me any
opportunity of studying _Lord Haresfield_ at closer quarters. Upon the
material vouchsafed it was impossible to spot in him the villain of the
piece; I was only allowed to meet him at two brief interviews,
throughout which he was consistently courteous and kind, with nothing of
the murderer about him. There was, in this connection, not only
_suppressio veri_, but even some _suggestio falsi_; at any rate I still
have great difficulty in believing that a man so obviously intelligent
and diplomatic could have initiated schemes so unnecessarily elaborate
and entirely incompetent for the mere removal of an unknown and
fatherless village youth. I make these observations only as in duty
bound; for myself, I didn't care twopence who was trying to get rid of
_Phillip_, or why. Provided they didn't succeed, I was content to leave
them at it and enjoy the fascinating picture of life in a sea-coast
village in the good old days when everybody was busy either in
preventing or assisting the "free trade" when a press-gang might come
along at any moment and steal a man or two without so much as by your
leave, and, generally speaking, things moved. Mr. HARRISON has a
delightful style, a perfect sympathy with the times of which he writes,
and no small gift of characterization. Frankly, I don't believe he
attaches any more importance to his plot than I do, for he is quite
content to leave it to itself for several chapters on end.

* * *

_The Double House_ (STANLEY PAUL) began attractively with a retired
Indian colonel who had a mysterious sorrow and wished to betake himself
to some quiet English hamlet "where echoes from his past might never
penetrate." Of course this could hardly be called wise of the Colonel;
the slightest knowledge of quiet English neighbourhoods in fiction or
the drama might have assured him that towards the end of Act I somebody
was simply bound to turn up who knew all. However, he rented one half of
a divided old manor house, and, even when informed that the other half
was inhabited by a widow of quiet habits, he apparently did not share my
own instant certainty that there were coincidences ahead. As a matter of
fact E. EVERETT-GREEN, the author, had so arranged matters that this
lady was the sister-in-law of a wicked murderer, for whose crime the
gallant _Colonel_ had himself been tried. So much for his past; but as a
matter of fact that of the lady was ever so much more sinist