To The Hilt

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<i>'"I don't think my stepfather much minded dying. That he almost took me with him wasn't really his fault."'</i> Alexander Kinloch, artist, has worked out a good pattern for his life. His home is a small bothy on a remote mountain in Scotland; he paints on commission, from which he derives both pleasure and a decent income; he lives alone and likes it. One day, however, Alexander's peace is violently shattered when he returns home to find a group of strangers waiting for him. After a scuffle, he is left for dead with only the wind and words "Where is it?" ringing in his ears. And the days that follow contain more danger than he could ever have imagined. Once again Dick Francis proves that for sheer narrative pace and ingenuity of plot he is second to none.