FICTION.
SIMON.*
MR. STORER Caousror affords the rare and agreeable spectacle
of a writer beginning with high-spirited extravaganzas—border- ing on the farcical—who has developed into an admirable composer of adventurous modern romances. He has not lost his high spirits, but they are mellowed into a " judicious levity." We have recently been indebted to him for two first-rate spy stories—laudably free from spy-mania or the excess of patriotic partisanship—and he now gives us equally good entertainment in a sensational tale, divorced from all connexion with the war, hinging on a mysterious murder, but depending quite as much for its successful appeal to the reader on character-drawing as on ingenuity of plot. The contrast between the London detect- ive and the stolid local inspector is obvious, but it is worked out most happily. Carrington, the detective, is a most engaging person, a professional not de-humanized by his experiences. Ned Cromarty, again, a Scots laird who has spent years in the Wild West, a good friend and a chivalrous lover, is a character not easily forgotten. But our favourite is the inimitable James Bisset, Sir Reginald Cromarty's butler, a most faithful and loyal retainer, but also a philosopher, a slave to deductions and principles and " dates." When Bisset had mended Miss Cicely Raymond's bicycle, the opportunity for a lecture was too good to be missed. Cicely was an expert in side-tracking Bisset's theoretical essays, but when she mentioned that Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland had given her a lift coming home, and Bisset observed " an interesting gentleman yon," she made no effort to divert his train of thought :—
" You think Mr. Cromarty interesting, then ? ' said she.— 'They say he's hanged a man with his own hands,' said Bisset impressively.—' What ! ' she cried.—' For good and sufficient reason we'll hope, miss. But whatever the way of it, it. makes a gentleman more interesting in a kin' of way than the usual run. And then looking at the thing on general principles the theory of hanging is— '—` Oh, but surely,' she interrupted, ' that isn't the only reason why Mr. Cromarty—I mean, why you
think he is interesting ? There's that glass eye, too. That's very interesting, miss.' She still seemed unsatisfied. ' His glass eye 1 Oh—you mean it has a story 1 '—' Vera possibly. He says himself it was done wi' a whisky bottle, but possibly that's making the best of it. But what interests me, miss, about yon eye is this—' He paused dramatically, and she inquired in an encouraging voice—' Yes, Bisset It's the principle of introducing a foreign substance so near the man's brain. What's
glass What does it consist of ? I—I don't know,' con- fessed Cicely, weakly.—` Silica ! And what's silica ? Prac- tically the same as sand. Well, now, if ye put a handful of sand into a man's brain—or anyhow next door to it—it's bound to have some effect, bound to have some effect ! ' " This is not the way of the ordinary writer of "shockers," but it is a very good way, for humorous relief is welcome in a story not without its grim and sinister aspects, and the humour of these interludes is entirely in keeping with the characters concerned. As for the clue to the mystery, it is sufficiently well disguised to conform with the " law of suspense," though students of detective stories may possibly guess at an early stage of the story the secret of the transformation of Simon Ratter, the exemplary procurator- fiscal. But even if they do, the consciousness of their cleverness will not affect their enjoy-
ment of a diverting and extremely well-written tale.
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