We, The Accused won for Ernest Raymond a small but enthusiastic public. There he put the case for a mean little murderer so as to make it almost convincing. This time he takes a boy criminal in the making, etches in -- with cruel detail -- overlavish at times --the background of the marsh, the low born dregs of London slums, ghettos, riverfronts. Danny is Irish born. Circumstances seem against him. He drifts into petty thievery, rationalizing his career by pseudo socialistic theories, talking in big terms to cover his panic. A two year jail sentence completes the downward push. He eventually dies in rather melodramatic fashion. The book needs tightening; there is too little restraint for power, too much awareness of the author. But on the whole, a moving story of failure through inherent weakness.