A jealous husband murders his wife's lover, making it appear a suicide, only to learn that she has a new amour-whereupon he re-alters the death to look like murder. But there's just so much finagling you can do with a corpse...or, for that matter, a wife. William K. Everson: An early entry in the gimmicky Dial M for Murder type of thriller, where the playwright clearly starts out with all of his Perfect Crime complications worked out in his own mind and then proceeds to fill in dialogue and characterization. Even today it's full of surprises, and skips by censorial thin ice rather glibly. It started out as a small out-of-town play, became a big success on the London stage, and established St. John L. Clowes as an author to watch. (Unfortunately he regarded writing only as a stepping stone to directing, and when he did direct it was a disaster.) Some extremely unlikely Times Square and New York "details" apart, this is an excellent entertainment and a wonderful showcase for some fine players, with Eric Portman and Dennis Price squaring off especially well as murderer and murderee respectively.