This novel seemed to have potential at first, but it soon revealed itself as pure melodrama. That can be entertaining, though, and I was intrigued enough by the hero and heroine to stick with it. Sadly, long before the end, the author wore out my patience with a tortured plot and even more tortured prose. Sample: The suggestion would seem a mere bungling expedient to inject the tantalizing fillip of mystery and unbelievable Quixotic motive, and, lacking evidence to support it, would touch the whole fabric with the taint of the meretricious. Nothing worse than the taint of the meretricious, I always say. Think I'll give the rest of the Rives oeuvre a miss.