No matter what people say, you can't help getting into trouble. And the antiques game is nothing but trouble — beautiful, lovely trouble. As far as'I'm concerned that means being in trouble aifthe bloody time. It is Lovejoy speaking, of course —the antique dealer who is 'tricksy, disreputable, marvellously knowledgeable, engaging, and On the Side of Right when the chips are down' (OxfordMail}. In his latest narrative Lovejoy is in troublejjp to his ears when, in a compromising position, he witnesses the murder of a fellow dealer whom he had known in the army years before. The dead man had recently purchased some unimportant items belonging to a local doctor recently deceased. Why were the big boys so keen to get them that they were prepared to kill him and then send thugs to dispose of Lovejoy as well? The clue was a ticket for the first trip on a local railway in 1 847. But the railway never opened. Except as a curiosity the ticket was valueless. Yet in between girls and spotting antiques and imparting his unrivalled knowledge of both, Lovejoy uncovered a story of villainy past and present which climaxed in a long-forgotten railway tunnel with all the attributes of a tomb.
Classic Crime Fiction
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