Tiresome. Truly tiresome. The writer, and the main characters, were so overly impressed with their own erudition that it totally deflated the text. I had previously read an Appleby short story by Innes which I very much liked and thought his stylistic flourishes added a nice aspect. But in this longer piece they just became belabored. It was a real slog. It didn't help that I chose this one so that I could be introduced to both of his famous sleuths and decide which to read. Unfortunately, I could barely tell them apart and had to keep flipping back in the story to see which "christian" named belonged to which sleuth. If one of them didn't constantly bring up that he was a painter, I'd never know the difference. And I was often confused about the intended time period. It read and seemed like something anywhere from the 30s to the 50s, which is perfectly fine, but then he would drop in "modern" police techniques that were clearly meant to be present day. I would normally just stop reading, but after seven days of only being 70 pages into the 160 of it, and unable to concentrate, I (literally) threw my hands up and started skimming just to see how the damn thing ended. The whole culmination was lackluster. Like I said, tiresome. ( )

Another case for Sir John Appleby,assisted on this occasion by his friend Charles Honeybath. At Grinton Hall resides Terence Grinton a hunting squire who hates the arts generally and literature in particular. Thus when Honeybath finds a body in the library which shortly afterwards disappears,Grinton is far from pleased. Sir John is drawn into the strange situation in which rare manuscripts and missing paintings play their part.
As with all the Michael Innes crime novels there is much erudition and literary allusions abound. Although this is far from being the best of the bunch it still has much to commend it. ( )