While Sindbad and Me was merely improbable, the witch who wouldn't dabbles in the arcane occult and if you can believe your eyes (Sheriff Landry does) she's capable of raising horns on one weak devil to say nothing of calling up a hurricane. What she won't do is tell what's on experimental physicist Van Noord's mind--data with a sinister potential to a local Satanist cabal, pure lucre to leading bankèr Barker, variously expedient to their cohorts. In the twisted course of finding them out and doing them in, un-detourable Steve, his bulldog Sinbad (another psychic) and golden girl Minerva Landry--who make a sharp, articulate trio--are swamped by the incantations and emanations of little old witch Aurelia Hepburn, while friend Herky Kracower's expertise on ancient sorcery matches Steve's on old houses (very much in evidence here as in the earlier book). Lost along the by-ways is the heady tension that made Sinbad and Me such a smash; remaining is some brisk raillery, lots of conjectural conjuring.