The really important thing is this car which followed you tonight,” broke in Winter. “The details are fresh in your memory. What type of car was it? Did you see the driver and occupants? What’s its number?” (…) Theydon hesitated the fraction of a second. That, he knew instantly, was a blunder, so he proceeded to rectify it. “I was dining with Mr. James Creighton Forbes, of No. 11, Fortescue Square,” he said. “Probably you are acquainted with his name, so you will realize that if my evidence proves of the slightest value I would not like any reference to be made to the fact that I was his guest tonight.” “I don’t see how that can possibly enter into the matter, except in its bearing on this mysterious car.” Though Winter was taking the lead, Theydon was aware that Furneaux, who had given him scant attention hitherto, was now looking at him fixedly. He imagined that the queer little man was all agog to learn something about the automobile which had thrust itself so abruptly into the affair.
Journalist then profligate novelist, Louis Tracy (1863-1928) has written stories of future wars, adventures novels and, above all, crime fiction, the mystery and thriller genres becoming finally the prominent features of his litterary career. Louis Tracy probably is one of the ‘best kept secrets’ of the British detective litterature, and the time has come to rediscover the investigations of brilliant sollicitor Reginald Brett, in a novel of 1916.
Foreword by Jean-Daniel Brèque