I've declined to give this book 5 stars for one reason; it's not long enough! Having devoured it in one sitting (pausing only briefly for the necessities of life) I find myself wanting more of Lucifer Box's adventures and wanting them NOW. A grotesquerie of characters leaps fully-formed like Athena from the page: Delilah, the indispensable domestic, Tom Bowler, the inappropriately cheerful undertaker, and Joshua Reynolds, the head of the Secret Service whose choice of office gives new meaning to 'meeting at your convenience'. Lucifer himself is arrogantly irresistible (and is it really arrogance when it's justified?) There is, of course, a fiendish plot for world domination and Lucifer finds allies and enemies in unexpected places as he attempts to foil the dastards. Sherlock Holmes was never this much fun, Harry Flashman never bettered Lucifer's savoir-vivre and Bulldog Drummond was a mere amateur in comparison. There is excitement, romance, gentleman's tailoring and, best of all, Charlie Jackpot. N.B. Should there NOT be a sequel (nay, several) to the Vesuvius Club, I shall be contacting my MP forthwith to complain.