Summary
In a city that never exhales, Tess—marble-skinned, champagne-blooded—floats through parlors where gossip hangs like cigar haze while her husband David bends over ledgers until his fingerprints fossilize. One velvet dusk she slips into a cabochon-lit hellhole on the arm of Arthur Sinclair, a man who wears charm the way others wear cologne: too much, too close. Roulette wheels howl, gin fizzes sing, then Potts’s gorillas crash the soirée, bullets nicking crystal, Arthur’s shoulder blooming a red peony, Tess’s diamond constellations ripped from her gloved fingers. She limps home, conjures a bedtime story for David—muggers, shadows, poor helpless me—only to watch the police uncork her jewels like Exhibit A. David’s wrath pivots toward Sinclair, yet the real venom arrives by post: Tess’s poison-pen letter, simmering with disdain for the man she married, intercepted by a housemaid whose conscience has a price tag. Potts, that urban gargoyle, demands fifteen grand for silence; Tess counter-offers, tears glittering on her lashes, and is laughed out of the room. Before the blackmail can metastasize, Potts lies gutted, a switchblade orchid sprouting from his ribs. Vanetti—rival, ghost, fate’s punchline—confesses with a shrug. At the inquest the incriminating letter flutters into David’s grasp like a dying moth; he strikes a match, lets the flame devour every damning syllable unread, and, in the smoke-wreathed hush, takes Tess’s hand, the charred paper still warm between their palms.
Synopsis
Tess, who has a taste for society life, is neglected by her hard-working husband, David. She goes with an ex-suitor, Arthur Sinclair, to a notorious gambling establishment; while there, a raid is staged by the henchmen of Potts, Arthur is wounded, and Tess's rings are stolen. She lies to David but is exposed when the police show the jewels for identification; David then becomes infuriated with Sinclair. A letter written to Sinclair by Tess, discrediting her husband, falls into the hands of a housemaid, who sells it to Potts. The latter offers to return it for $15,000; Tess tries to buy it for a smaller sum and is refused. When detectives arrive to arrest Potts, he is found murdered; at the inquiry the fateful letter falls into the hands of David, but the murderer proves to be Vanetti, an enemy of Potts. David is reunited with Tess after destroying the letter, unread.
Review Excerpt
"
Spoilers swarm like cigar smoke—breathe at your own peril.
The Truthful Liar is a cobra-coiled little miracle from 1922, a year when jazz hissed from gramophones and morality felt as negotiable as a margin loan. Picture it: a film stock still nursing pockmarks from the war, emulsion so thin you could almost see the nickelodeon operator’s cigarette glow through the frame. Yet within those brittle cells lies a morality play soaked in absinthe, a tale of matrimony curdled on the radiator of moder..."
