When Warwickshire-born Julius Falconer retired from what seemed a lifetime labouring at the chalk face in Cornwall and Scotland, he turned his hand to furthering a lifetime dream, namely producing a detective story which relied on reasoning; which teased and stimulated; which was well-written; which offered the discerning reader a plausible story; and, finally, which provided entertainment without sex and violence. His books set out not to topple the acknowledged greats – as if! - but to complement them with something perhaps a little homelier. The present book is his twentieth.