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"A Case in Camera" by Oliver Onions is a novel written in the early 20th century. The story kicks off with a murder mystery, following a young artist named Philip Esdaile who finds himself entangled in a complex web of events surrounding a tragic accident involving a crashing aeroplane and a fatality. The opening chapters introduce a vibrant breakfast gathering of friends, which is abruptly interrupted by the alarming incident that will lead to unforeseen complications for the characters involved. The beginning of the novel establishes a light-hearted yet intimate atmosphere filled with camaraderie among the characters, only for it to take a dark turn when a parachute unexpectedly lands on Esdaile's studio. As the aftermath unfolds, it becomes clear that Esdaile may be hiding something related to the accident involving two aviators, one of whom is critically injured while the other is deceased. The narrative hints at secrets, potential motives, and the psychological impact this incide

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The tale I am setting out to tell has to do with the killing, on a May morning of the year 1919, of one young man by another who claimed, and still claims, to have been his friend. The circumstances were singular--perhaps even unique; the consequences affected a number of people in various interesting ways and byways; and since the manner of telling the story has been left entirely to me, I will begin with the breakfast-party that Philip Esdaile gave that morning at his studio in Lennox Street, Chelsea.

II

Philip had at least two good reasons for being in high feather that morning. The first of these was that barely a week ago, with a magnificent new quill pen, he had signed the Roll, had shaken august hands, and was now Philip Esdaile, A.R.A., probably the most gifted among the younger generation of painters of the pictorial phenomena of Light.

I and his second reason for contentment happened to arrive almost simultaneously at the wrought-iron gate that opened on to his little front garden. We all knew that for many months past our barrister friend, Billy Mackwith, had been tracking down and buying in again on Philip's behalf a number of Philip's earlier pictures--prodigal pictures, parted with for mere bread-and-butter during the years of struggle, and now very well worth Philip's re-purchase if he could get them into his possession again. (I may perhaps say at once that I don't think Philip owed his Associateship to his pictures of that period. It is far more likely that the artist thus honored was Lieutenant Esdaile, R.N.V.R., sometime one of the Official Painters to the Admiralty.)

A carrier's van stood drawn up opposite the gate, and I saw Mackwith's slim, silk-hatted and m

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