Originally published as by Daphne Sanders (the sole book for which Rice used this nom de plume, although she ghostwrote another "Sanders" book, George Sanders's Crime on my Hands, the following year), this is, I think, my favorite Craig Rice book to date. I found it on the Munsey's site (as by "Dapne" Sanders).
A few years ago, a bunch of crooked financiers (plus one honest but gullible millionaire) mounted a quick financial coup that netted them a lot of money but bankrupted lots of the "little people." Now a mysterious character who signs himself just "N" is sending them letters of warning that he plans to steal a treasured item from each of them and, despite their best efforts, is successfully going through with the thefts. The financiers call in a detective called Donovan, who soon deduces that "N" is using the proceeds of the thefts to refund the "little people" -- or their survivors, because suicides were sometimes a consequence of the coup -- for all that they lost.
Then things seem to take a darker turn. Poppy, the daughter of one of the financiers, goes missing, presumed kidnapped or dead. His wife is found murdered in the sleazy room where she had an assignation with her lover. A showgirl who probably knows the identity of the killer goes into hiding but soon she, too, is found murdered. The cops assume "N" must be the killer but Donovan is less sure, especially when he realizes that Poppy, who's still very much alive, has decided she supports "N's" endeavor to right the financiers' wrong and when "N" offers him a form of cooperation in the hunt for the real murderer . . .
The book's short and for the most part taut, and the central character of "N" -- whose true identity we discover only in the final pages -- appeals very strongly to that part of me that has always respected and adored Robin Hood figures, characters whose relative weakness in terms of weapons or power is more than compensated for in their battle with the bad guys by their intelligence, craftiness and integrity.
The whole tale seems to belong in John Dickson Carr Land -- that parallel world in which quite implausibly surreal tales seem to make perfect sense. The tale itself isn't particularly Carr-like (more Ellery Queen, in a way, although not Queen at his most tortuous), but it certainly demands that same joyously granted suspension of disbelief from the reader.
At the end of the novel there's a hint that there are going to be more tales of Donovan and "N" vying with each other, but alas this never came to pass.
A sprightly jeu d'esprit, with a cunning resolution. What more could we ask?