“Much mystery attached to the circumstances of [Eustace Peter’s] death. It was into my hands that chance threw the clue to this mystery, and it is for me, if for anyone, to relay the facts.” Thus begins our somewhat unwilling, and often apparently unreliable narrator, who remains the main character of interest. The words “I,” “me,” and “my” dominate the story. The true nature of the other characters remains a moving target as the narrator reluctantly tries to gather the facts. A window into the latter days of Empire; someone catches sight of a suspect writing a letter “addressed to Bombay, or Beirut, or somewhere beginnning with a B.” Batavia is also in the mix, along with Melbourne, Saigon, and Nagasaki. The author’s sole foray into mystery writing, which I regret, as this was an enjoyable read.