Here is a fantastic tale, or series of tales, in which an attempt is made to introduce the atmosphere of the Arabian Nights into the life of workaday New York, not with entire success. Hypnotism, electricity, radium, and infernal machines of various potencies are a few of the cheerful elements played with. The hero, Esper Indiman, is a recognizable blend of Haroun Al-Raschid and Sherlock Holmes; and, if ever a man swings on the gates of chance without coming a cropper, he certainly does. His exit from the book is at least sequel-provoking, if nothing more. As a whole, the story has many moments of interest and one or two thrills, but it is not for a single minute plausible, and does not show the author at his best. — The Literary World, August 1904