For its third offering the rejuvenated Copley Theatre has relapsed to an intelligent and absorbing mystery play for the greater delectation of its average audience, already a trifle put out by the psychological intricacies of George Kelley, and of straight comedy-drama in general. "Three Times the Hour" is described on the programme as a "new" melodrama; it is not perhaps strictly new, but at all events it displays rather takingly a technique which is new to us. Its dramatic action consists of three long scenes, each timed at 10.50 respectively, so that the catastrophe, as our dear old friends the Greeks will call it, expressed by the scream of a woman and the explosion of a revolver, though occurring thrice, is performed before the spectator only in the final act. Whatever the reader may think of this ingenious dramatic device, it is, at any rate, effectively carried off at the Copley. . .

The first act is, without any doubt, the weakest, and this is unfortunate, since, in a play of this type, the first act is perhaps the most important. The stage is incessantly cluttered up with clumsy figures in evening dress who turn out either to be guests disguised as bulls, or dicks disguised as guests, or newspaper reporters who turn out to be neither. Incidentally the reporters ought to be pleased by this little play; the police should not; and this, no doubt, is all to the good. There is one of those pleasing scenes of official sadism, inseparable from any piece dealing with the gentlemen in blue which usually sends the audience off into spasms of thrilled delight, and this particular reviewer into those of profound disgust.

So far as one recalls the somewhat complicated action, it deals with one of those polished but weary captains of metropolitan industry who is on the eve of eloping with a reluctant secretary just after making miserable the corporate existence of a vague South American Republic through the calculated failure of a rival bank. Naturally any number of unsuspected people are out to destroy the polite and powerful arch-criminal from the start of the piece, and this in itself is enough to furnish adequate excitement for three acts. The role in question is exceedingly well played by Mr. Francis Compton, possibly the least amateurish of the cast in this particular play. Fortunately, there is only one comic detective, and he does not last long enough to matter. The guileless secretary and her lover do their respective jobs well, and do not overact. The rest of the cast may be described as being more than adequate.

The writer has carefully refrained from giving away any more of the plot than is strictly necessary to establish the atmosphere of what is, after all, a very superior mystery play. This is a tough week, generally speaking, and one should be grateful for all the dramatic entertainment one can obtain. If you happen to be temporarily bothered by academic or athletic difficulties, you certainly should not miss the Copley play. Even if you have an hour exam impending on the morrow, you will assuredly remain to the final curtain