A bigger piece of pie is always better.
Suppose you and eight of your nearest, dearest friends go together to buy a lottery ticket. All of you sign an agreement that the prize will be divided equally between the living syndicate members at the time of payoff. If one dies, the money reverts (not to the man's estate) but to the other syndicate members.
So every time one of you dies, the others benefit financially. Would you start looking at your friends and thinking, "Of course, I don't WANT anything to happen to so-and-so. We've been like brothers. But if he DID die, I'd get more money." Would you start thinking how convenient a few deaths would be? Would you wonder if your friends were thinking the same thing?
Now suppose it's not a group of friends, but nine men who happened to be at a stag bridge party when one of them casually suggested a sweepstakes syndicate. You're not Besties, just men who live in the same neighborhood. Heck, maybe you don't even like some of them. Would that make a difference?
I enjoyed the introduction by Golden Age mystery critic Curtis Evans. He's lumped the Scotsman who wrote detective stories under the name "J J Connington" with three other GA writers - R. Austin Freeman (creator of Dr Thorndyke). Cecil Street (creator of Dr Priestley and Desmond Merrion), and Freeman Wills Crofts (creator of Inspector French of Scotland Yard) as writers of the Hum-Drum school of detection.
I object because it sounds like a slur, but Evans is simply saying the four authors' detectives solve mysteries with scientific precision, not flashes of brilliance or intuition. Since I think that's the way police work is carried out ("shoe-leather" investigation or "pounding the pavements") I enjoy their books. Inspector French is a great favorite and I like Desmond Merrion. Dr Thornedyke isn't a favorite, but I've gotten fond of Chief Constable Sir Clinton Driffield.
I think it's telling that three of the four men were trained scientists. Freeman was an M.D., Crofts was an engineer, and Connington was a chemist. The scientic approach was mother's milk to these men.
But to get back to that syndicate. The first member dies in an airplane crash. Probably an accident, but it made someone consider the possibilities. One of the members was Sir Clinton Driffield's old pal "Squire" Wendover and Driffield is staying at Wendover's estate when the first suspecious "accident" occurs. Will Sir Clinton's Dr Watson come to an untimely end?
I like the fact that local CID Inspector Severn is doing the investigation. We met him in "The Boathouse Riddle" and he's a good man - intelligent, meticulous, and pains-taking. Much of the evidence is contained in the camera work of the victim, a visitor to the area who falls to his death into a gaping crevasse. One of the suspects is a good-looking woman and Squire Wendover does his usual Knight-in-Shining-Armor act and refuses to believe it. Inspector Severn is a professional and follows the clues.
Then a third member dies in a car crash. They're dropping like flies and one guy gets the wind up and drops out. What good will the money do him if he's not alive to spend it? No one is impressed with his logic and his cool-minded GF breaks the engagement. She was counting on that money.
There's a fourth death (one which brings tears to no one's eyes) and a syndicate member is arrested for murder. Inspector Severn has it all worked out on the basis of alibis, but Sir Clinton shows up and takes some additional photos. His theory is that one of those alibis was cleverly faked.
I'll admit that Connington's books don't whiz along at a dizzying speed. There's a great deal of detail. You can take it all in or skim over it (which I do.) I continue to like Sir Clinton and Squire Wendover isn't as irritating as some Dr Watsons. This author may have been primarily interested in scientific data, but he also had an eye for people. He created some characters you can get your teeth into. For that, he deserves to be re-discovered.