e a
narrative of actual fact. If it has any fault, it lies in rather
unnecessary multiplicity of physiological details.

* * * * *

It is to be hoped that Mr. Chesterton, who has recently confessed to a
weakness for reading detective stories, may be able to get a copy of
Charles Carey's book, "The Van Suyden Sapphires," just published by
Dodd, Mead & Co., for in it he will find all the diversion that he
needs, and possibly some information as to the art of plot
construction--if indeed it is an art and not a science.

It is a little bit uncertain as to whether or not Mr. Carey
intentionally emphasizes Miss Bramblestone's rather abnormal
intuition, or whether he is trading, for the purpose of his story,
upon the popular superstition--maybe it is not a superstition--that
this faculty is essentially feminine. But it is not a matter of the
highest importance whether he has or not; it is not even worth while
to be hypercritical in a discussion of the artistic quality of the
story; it would be a waste of time and space to undertake to throw
doubt upon the probability of any of the story's episodes, for when
one is forced to make the acknowledgment that Mr. Carey has written a
book that will not surrender its hold upon the attention until the
last word is read, what more need be said in its praise?

It is as good an example of the peculiar fascination exercised by
so-called detective stories as we know of; and besides this it
contains--as most of these stories do not--a lot of people who command
both our interest and sympathy, from the heroine to the self-confessed
criminal, Harry Glenn, who is, in spite of his wickedness, a very
captivating young man, as Miss Bramblestone found out, and as her
lover, Captain McCracken, was finally forced to admit.

* * * * *

"The Unwritten Law," by Arthur Henry, A. S. Barnes & Co., is extremely
interesting, and written in a curiously circumstantial style, so
explicitly worked out as to details of scenery, location and so forth,
that it constantly produces the effect of fact rather than fiction.

Various seamy sides of society are shown up in pretty plain colors,
and the author does not hesitate to draw conclusions from them, too
strongly convincing to be questioned by his readers. The old engraver,
Karl Fischer, his wife and two daughters, are typical products of the
time, especially the pretty and sensual Thekla, whose phy