Small-town seediness and guile are a match for officaldom any day, as British Intelligence find out when they come to Flaxborough looking for a missing agent. Like most of Colin Watson's Flaxborough Chronicles, this is a bitingly funny book with an exquisite depiction of Hopjoy as a no-quite-James Bond, complete with gadgets and KGB mementoes. Inspector Purbright surveys the usual band of small-time swindlers and the men from the ministry with the same amused detachment he shows his Pekinese-obsessed boss. Taken individually everything in the book seems quite plausible: taken together it's a hugely funny and tongue-in-cheek view of the British view of authority (something to be got round) and intelligence (something to be suspected). Another triumph for Purbright and an under-rated classic.