{"product_id":"2940013773813","title":"The Islington Mystery","description":"The public taste in murders is often erratic, and sometimes, I think,\u003cbr\u003efallible enough. Take, for example, that Crippen business. It happened\u003cbr\u003eseventeen years ago, and it is still freshly remembered and discussed\u003cbr\u003ewith interest. Yet it was by no means a murder of the first rank. What\u003cbr\u003ewas there in it? The outline is crude enough; simple, easy, and\u003cbr\u003edisgusting, as Dr. Johnson observed of another work of art. Crippen was\u003cbr\u003ecursed with a nagging wife of unpleasant habits; and he cherished a\u003cbr\u003epassion for his typist. Whereupon he poisoned Mrs. Crippen, cut her up\u003cbr\u003eand buried the pieces in the coal-cellar. This was well enough, though\u003cbr\u003eelementary; and if the foolish little man had been content to lie quiet\u003cbr\u003eand do nothing, he might have lived and died peaceably. But he must\u003cbr\u003eneeds disappear from his house--the action of a fool--and cross the\u003cbr\u003eAtlantic with his typist absurdly and obviously disguised as a boy:\u003cbr\u003esheer, bungling imbecility. Here, surely, there is no single trace of\u003cbr\u003ethe master's hand; and yet, as I say, the Crippen Murder is reckoned\u003cbr\u003eamongst the masterpieces. It is the same tale in all the arts: the low\u003cbr\u003ecomedian was always sure of a laugh if he cared to tumble over a pin;\u003cbr\u003eand the weakest murderer is sure of a certain amount of respectful\u003cbr\u003eattention if he will take the trouble to dismember his subject. And\u003cbr\u003ethen, with respect to Crippen: he was caught by means of the wireless\u003cbr\u003edevice, then in its early stages. This, of course, was utterly\u003cbr\u003eirrelevant to the true issue; but the public wallows in irrelevance. A\u003cbr\u003egreat art critic may praise a great picture, and make his criticism a\u003cbr\u003emasterpiece in itself. He will be unread; but let some asinine\u003cbr\u003eparagraphist say that the painter always sings \"Tom Bowling\" as he sets\u003cbr\u003ehis palette, and dines on boiled fowl and apricot sauce three times a\u003cbr\u003eweek--then the world will proclaim the artist great.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eII\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe success of the second-rate is deplorable in itself; but it is more\u003cbr\u003edeplorable in that it very often obscures the genuine masterpiece. If\u003cbr\u003ethe crowd runs after the false, it must neglect the true. The\u003cbr\u003eintolerable _Romola_ is praised; the admirable _Cloister and the Hearth_\u003cbr\u003eis waived aside. So, while the very indifferent and clumsy performance\u003cbr\u003eof Crippen filled the papers, the extraordinary Battersea Murder was\u003cbr\u003eserved with a scanty paragraph or two in obscure corners of the Press.\u003cbr\u003eIndeed, we were so shamefully starved of detail that I only retain a\u003cbr\u003ebare outline of this superb crime in my memory; but, roughly, the affair\u003cbr\u003ewas shaped as follows: In the first floor of one of the smaller sets of\u003cbr\u003eflats in Battersea a young fellow (? 18--20) was talking to an actress,\u003cbr\u003ea \"touring\" actress of no particular fame, whose age, if I recollect,\u003cbr\u003ewas drawing on from thirty to forty. A shot, a near shot, broke in\u003cbr\u003esuddenly on their talk. The young man dashed out of the flat, down the\u003cbr\u003estairs, and there, in the entry of the flats, found his own father, shot\u003cbr\u003edead. The father, it should be remarked, was a touring actor, and an old\u003cbr\u003efriend of the lady upstairs. But here comes the magistral element in\u003cbr\u003ethis murder. Beside the dead man, or in the hand of the dead man, or in\u003cbr\u003ea pocket of the dead man's coat--I am not sure how it was--there was\u003cbr\u003efound a weapon made of heavy wire--a vile and most deadly contraption,\u003cbr\u003efashioned with curious and malignant ingenuity. It was night-time, but\u003cbr\u003ethe bright light of a moon ten days old was shining, and the young man\u003cbr\u003esaid he saw someone running and leaping over walls.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47083172921584,"sku":"2940013773813","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013773813_p0.jpg?v=1763590090","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013773813","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}