a sympathetic neutral, saw everything, and his comments are entirely outspoken.  We know the Dardanelles story well enough by now from our own side; here for the first time one may see in full detail just how near it came to victory.  It is a history of chances neglected, of adverse fate and heroism frustrated, such as no Englishman can read unmoved.  But the book has also a further value in the light it throws upon the Armenian massacres and the complicity of Germany therein.  “Though in later years German officialdom may seek to disclaim responsibility, the broad fact remains of German military direction at Constantinople ... during the brief period in which took place the virtual extermination of the Armenian race in Asia Minor.”  It is one more stain upon a dishonoured shield, not to be forgotten in the final reckoning.

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I never met a story more aptly named than Mrs. BELLOC LOWNDES’ Love and Hatred (CHAPMAN AND HALL). Oliver Tropenell worshipped Laura Pavely, who returned this attachment, despite the fact that she was already married to Godfrey. Godfrey, for his part, loved Katty Winslow, a young widow, who flirted equally with him, with Oliver, and with Laura’s undesirable brother, Gilbert.  So much for the tender passion.  As for the other emotion, Oliver naturally hated Godfrey; so did Gilbert. Laura also came to share their sentiment.  By the time things had reached this climax the moment was obviously ripe for the disappearance of the much detested one, in order that the rest of the tale might keep you guessing which of the three had (so to speak) belled the cat.  Followers of Mrs. LOWNDES will indeed have been anticipating poor Godfrey’s demise for some time, and may perhaps think that she takes a trifle too long over her arrangements for the event.  They will almost certainly share my view that the explanation of the mystery is far too involved and unintelligible.  I shall, of course, not anticipate this for you.  It has been said that the works of HOMER were not written by HOMER himself, but by another man of the same name.  This may, or may not, give you a clue to the murder of Godfrey Pavely.  I wish the crime were more worthy of such an artist in creeps as Mrs. LOWNDES has proved herself to be.

* * * * *

The test of the second water, as sellers of tea assure us, provides proof of a quality for which one must go to the right market.  BARONESS ORCZY has not feared to put her most famous product, The Scarlet Pimpernel, to a similar trial.  Whether the result of this renewed dilution is entirely satisfactory I leave you to judge, but certainly at least something of the well-known and popular aroma of romantic artificiality clings about the pages of her latest story, Lord Tony’s Wife (HODDER AND STOUGHTON), while at the bottom of the cup there is not a little dash