The Times (London).
30 December 1948
A programme acknowledgement for "funeral furnishings" augurs well for a grand guignol bill, and two of the three pieces are horribly up to standard. That the latest is set in 1894 suggests that the author holds a proper romantic view of murder, which ceases to be sordid when it was done before we were old enough to read about in the newspaper or done, at any time, for love of Venice.
Oddly enough, it is the piece remotely connected with an actual crime that tells least on the stage. Mr. Pirkis's proffered solution to the mystery of Jack the Ripper is as good as any other guess, but it lacks the essentially theatrical colour of the other plays.
