A moody, elegant thriller, beautifully paced. A retired New York City newspaper editor writing after the turn of the century recounts the tale of what happened when his talented freelance writer, Martin Pemberton, went missing in the 1871. This was before the city had grown much above present-day 72nd Street. Martin believes, and others agree, that he may be losing his mind. He has twice recently seen his father, dead these last two years, being driven through town in a sepulchrally white omnibus. Martin is editor/narrator McIlvaine's best writer and when he disappears McIlvaine goes looking for him. New York is not depicted at its best. It is in fact a horribly corrupt and violent town. (For background see Luc Sante's Low Life and Herbert Asbury's Gangs of New York.) U.S. Congressman and later NY State senator Boss Tweed runs a patronage mill called "the Ring" and virtually every municipal office is up for sale. Except for the Christian charities there are no organized social services to speak of. Child labor is rife. Streetwalkers fight over turf. Con men are a public nuisance not reigned in by the unscrupulous police department. The Lower East Side is known for its flourishing opium dens. Everyone, in short, is on the take. In the midst of this mayhem the city evinces a vibrant commercial sector, which is hardly squeaky clean itself. Martin's late father, Augustus, was perhaps its major figure. After Martin vanishes we learn that after Augustus died his vast fortune disappeared too. Hmm. And not only that, but the old man's widow is now living in penury with her son, dependent on the kindness of relatives. That's the tease. I won't reveal more. Needless to say, this is a beach or inflight read of a very high order, and perfect source material for Martin Scorsese. ( )