Whenever I am tired of reading books that are deeply philosophical, or pretend to be such, I turn to Oppenheim. He is the probable the forerunner of Eric Amber and John Le Carré. His is good, interesting reading; lots of dialogue, no-frill descriptions, entertaining plots (not necessarily believable, but who cares), and usually a sense of mystery and suspense. Three hundred, or so, pages that one can easily devour in a day. Having refreshed, I can now return to more heady material. Unfortunately, like so many others of the early 20th century, he is out of print and more than likely unknown to all but the most avid of bibliophiles.