James Tynewood, a young man of fixed income and expensive tastes who doesn't believe in working for a living – easy with the money and even easier with the ladies - buys a ring ("There's no finer stone in London or Paris or New York") for some bird from a ritzy West End jeweller: price, 8 big ones. Then he disappears. His lawyer, against his better judgement, hires a woman, a Marjorie Stedman, played by Hazel Court (six months ago she wrote a story about beatniks. Pardon? You know, people who drink and gamble - OK, so she's no John Pilger) to find him and pass on a message that: South Africa Smith is back! Court goes undercover: by night with the beatniks in the attacks and cellars of Chelsea, at a casino (with Paul Eddington) and at the jewellers where Tynewood bought the ring with his fiancé. "I think she's a showgirl – the way she carried herself." Anway, Tynewood gets all washed up, literally, on the muddy banks of the Thames – death by manual strangulation – and it's left to Court and Scotland Yard to unravel this Edgar Wallace mystery.
Review of The Man Who Was Nobody
