Into quiet Applecross, Maine, comes a stranger to buy the old Darby place. All anybody knows about him is that he is lean, has close-cropped black hair, always wears dark glasses, and has enough money in the bank to pay $100,000 cash, to buy the property. He resists rudely and coldly all overtures from townsfolk, who are accustomed to paying a friendly social call on new neighbors, perhaps bearing a jar of jelly or a few tips on where the best clamming areas are. It makes no difference whether the visitor is Lorenzo Darby, the faithful though unpaid caretaker of the house, or the bustling head of the local Historical Society. Mr. Cory Sanderson makes it abundantly clear that he has come to Applecross for privacy and isolation and intends to have it. His reclusive habits at first lead to nothing more than amused speculation by old-timers. But then there are incidents - minor at first and then increasingly violent. A dog, which everybody in town loves, is found shot to death. Then there is the fire, which erupts with blazing ferocity in the night... With consummate skill Miss Ogilvie weaves ever tighter the web of entrapment. Though spring sunshine begins to warm the Maine countryside, it can do little to dispel the chill of terror the novel's crashing finale brings.