A peculiar change came over me while I was immersed in the fictional history "Grace and Disgrace". Forsaking my usual motley array of jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers, I took to attiring myself in a more gentlemanly fashion. Ruffled shirts, frock coats, and buckled boots became my daily raiment, the ensemble completed by top hat and cloak, all to the querulous consternation of those whom I once considered friends. Mutton-chop sideburns grew unbidden upon my cheeks, my chest tightened with imagined consumption, and my leg (which had always seemed hale and hearty before) ached so abominably that I began walking with a cane. Had I been able to locate a horse and buggy merchant, I would have traded-in my automobile on the spot. And my speech transformed itself into, well, what you see here; a broad Irish brogue rich in courteous formality, erudite vocabulary, and colourful idiom.
Enough of this outlandish prologue, I hear you rasp, what of the account I am intent upon appraising in this discourse? Hold your horses, good sir, and I shall get to it presently. And if good madam you be, take heed; there are scenes here, fictional though they may be, depicting unsavoury acts of theft, violence, deception, and murder, which may offend your feminine sensibility. And, as an aside, you really should have that throat looked at by a physician.
Now to the plot, if it pleases you. Its nature is immediately apparent from the opening paragraph, one of the best I have seen. In no more than a few words it is made clear that there is a mystery to be solved, the ethereal mood of the piece is set, and one is tantalised by a subtle undertone of dark humour. The latter continues throughout, mind you, and provides a welcome counterpoint to the uglier events of the affair.
At the turn of the nineteenth century, Inspector Jack Tuohay of the Royal Irish Constabulary, a man who spent his formative years in Boston, returns in search of the Templar Diamond, a priceless artefact of the Catholic Church. The diamond was stolen in Belfast six years earlier on Tuohay's watch, and he is in disgrace for having failed to prevent its disappearance. When he reaches Boston, he reconnects with John Eldredge and Eliza Wilding, old friends he has not seen for a decade, and I joined the sleuths as they began to piece together the clues and ciphers which suggest that the diamond was transported across the Atlantic in secret and hidden somewhere in New England. On more than one occasion I had cause to be thankful for my heavy cloak as protection from the icy North Atlantic weather as we travelled from bustling Boston to picturesque Plymouth, and on the lonely coastal road in between. Along the way, we crossed paths with an assortment of enigmatic characters; among them priests, lawyers, concubines, and lunatics, not to mention the menacing Inspector Frost, watchdog of the Boston authorities.
When the journey was through, the tale told, and the mystery finally solved, I was saddened to have to hang up my hat, shave my sideburns, and jump into my automobile. I am still looking for that horse and buggy merchant, however. Should anyone have any information for me in this regard, I can be reached through the Western Union Telegraph Company.