British crime fiction is the best, which this particular novel proves. It begins when young girl comes half dead to some guy flat, he calls general practitioner, but he can do very little about it. Soon there comes blackmail letters to all involved, and in the meanwhile G.P. decides to kill his adulterous wife under the influence of LSD. After that some unknown boy turns up in his office with no identity papers, apparently dumb and mute. Not knowing what to do, doctor invites him to his home to serve him until he recovers. Lord Tralee, writer of detective novels have some suspicion about it, and it soon is revealed that dumb boy was impersonating his true dumb brother and is actually very clever young thug who is responsible for death of poor young girl, poisoning general practitioner drink with LSD and sending blackmailing letters to everyone involved. However, in all good detective novels, moral relativism is the key to all answers. Young thug really liked the girl, and got her pregnant, and in the end he stumbles upon doctors house with a pistol. Doctor accidentally kills him, while Lord Tralee in the last few chapters exposes what really happened. You may think that crime novels are rubbish, but they are literature in its purest form, which this one proves.
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