To Sarah Hollis and her flat-mates a ramshackle villa in the French Pyrenees seemed to offer the perfect holiday; 'romantic, restful, remote' was how the advertisement described the Villa Abercrombie.

Sarah went ahead of the others in her own little car. On the way she had met by chance a man called Arthur Crook, though she could scarcely believe his assertion, made with hearty and cosy vulgarity, that he was by profession a lawyer. A time would come when Sarah would have need of Crook's services . . .