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Dramatis personae: Charles Lennox, gentleman, private investigator; Lord John Dallington, Polly Buchanan, and Monsieur LeMaire, Lennox's partners; Lord Monomark, Lennox's sworn political enemy; Inspectors Nicholson and Jenkins of Scotland Yard; the sinister William Travers-George, Marquess of Wakefield; so wealthy and powerful his deeds remain unpunished; Sister Grethe, a nun who has taken a vow of silence; Sergeant Armbruster; the butler; the ship's captain.
Lennox is trying to make a go of his new business, a partnership among several private detectives which pools the partners' scientifically based specialties and methods. Between the detectives and their associates, experts in ballistics, fingerprinting, and pharmacology, they should be able to make a go of their new business—except Inspector Jenkins, Lennox's very longtime associate at Scotland Yard, seems to be behind a series of articles in the newspaper specifically targeting the detectives. Business falls off. LeMaire leaves to start his own business.
Inspector Jenkins is found murdered very close to the home of the Marquess of Wakefield, one of the most powerful—and most sinister—men in England. Interestingly, he has found it a good time to leave England, quite suddenly, on a trip. A mysterious envelope in Jenkins's shoe is addressed to Lennox. A strange silence falls over the murder: no witnesses come forward. Wakefield's very proper butler notes that, strangely, Jenkins had met with the Marquess before he was murdered. The nuns at a nunnery near the Marquess's home have taken a vow of silence, and the nun who watches the gates speaks German, not English. Before all is said and done, poison is detected, a certain ship is revealed to make fast runs to Indian ports, and too many gentlemen of high standing are seen calling at the nunnery.
And, really, without giving the whole game away, I can say no more, except that author Charles Finch has, I believe, without invoking any famous names, stepped into Conan Doyle's shoes and spun a plot most Holmesian. Finch, a graduate of Oxford, can juggle intricacies of plot without dropping the ball. I sometimes want to thank him for believing in his readers, trusting us to follow the tale he spins. I wish that Finch could give lessons to some of his fellow writers: in writing, one does entertain a reader, but one creates one's readers, too. One little quibble: Mr. Finch, about that title? I don't get it.
§ Cathy Downs is professor of English at Texas A&M university-Kingsville. She teaches American literature and enjoys the well-turned whodunit.
Reviewed by Cathy Downs, December 2014
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