Another blistering attack on the English class system in the form of a retrospective mystery, the events narrated several decades after they took place. Since it's Dickinson, the characters are well-thought-out and the evocation of the time and place is excellent, but this one felt a bit closer to a polemic than usual, possibly because the book's reach encompasses such a broad cross-section of the upper levels of British society in the '50s. The central mystery is bound up with a spy scandal -- allowing Dickinson to get in some shots at security services that are drowning in their own paranoia -- and the Suez affair -- holding up a ruling class both supremely self-confident and detached from reality. Plus there are some sordid land scams, with ties to organized crime. And to top it off, a series of catastrophic relationships: only one of the five Vereker daughters has a marriage that lasts, and most of the men they are involved with are fatally flawed in one way or another. One of those men is the central figure and murder victim: Gerry Grantworth, a Gatsby-esque figure as a golden boy war hero without name or family, who destroys himself trying to make himself good enough for the woman he loves, Nan Vereker, the eldest daughter of the aristocratic Vereker family. Or rather, and this is where the English class system really starts to bite, good enough for the aristocracy, as represented by Blatchards, the Vereker family estate. Indeed, Nan, unlike Daisy Buchanan, leaves her American millionaire husband for him, but Gerry feels that he won't be worthy of her unless he's wealthy enough to enable him to maintain Blatchards and hence to really and truly belong to the upper classes: it's this entirely internalized drive, a product of the society that he grew up in, that leads him to his end. But it's not just Gerry: the alternating narrators are Gerry's friend Paul Ackerley and Nan's younger sister Lucy, and it's fairly clear that, although Paul would likely object to being described in this way -- unlike Gerry, Paul never broke the law -- his trajectory is quite similar to Gerry's. As a Jew, Paul is also an outsider despite having some of the trappings of insiderdom (he and Gerry both went to Eton, for instance), and he too is in love with a Vereker, Lucy: if his method of self-destruction for money, working himself to death, is less dramatic than Gerry's, it is nonetheless nearly as effective. And it's notable that Paul is unable to finally win Lucy until Blatchards is utterly destroyed in a gas explosion: a rather spectacular demonstration of the overthrow of the class system that keeps them apart. In the end, we do learn who killed Gerry -- technically it's only Lucy's well-informed speculation, but it seems clear that we can believe her -- but the real explanation is supplied earlier, when Paul, on the verge of a nervous breakdown and in a highly excitable state, suddenly realizes that all the Vereker sisters worked together to do it. He's wrong about the facts, but he's seen a deeper truth: the Vereker family, the impersonations of an arrogant and selfish aristocracy, bears the ultimate responsibility.