A murder mystery thought to have been solved ages ago comes back with a bang when an unidentified body of a man is found at the Dover Beach with severe head injuries. Excerpt: Elsie and Inskipp watched them disappear. There, but for the grace of God– murmured Inskipp unctuously. I don’t think any one should be as ugly as those two are, said Elsie. She spoke meditatively, objectively. She was an artist, and, incidentally, a very pretty girl. And as though to give her another look at them, the brother and sister suddenly reappeared, walking briskly towards them. As usual, Florence Rackstraw was in the lead. She was very tall. Her head was too large for her bony body, and seemed to be all face, a face the colour of mottled mahogany. Her hair, straight as that of a mouse, was looped in two curtains over her ears and gathered into a tight little bun on her long, scraggy neck. Her eyes protruded. Her chin retreated. Her nose was hooked. Her mouth consisted of two thin, pale lines that slanted up to one side.