Casey Ford's worthless (odd sexual persuasions here, as well) husband Charles is supposed to have died in a Salisbury cottage leaving behind him an unfinished manuscript the conclusion of which -- a fortune in gold (acquired from the inlays of concentration camp victims) -- is wanted by a number of people, none of whom are who or quite what they seem. Urgently plotted from London to Basel to Lugano and certainly more easily read than swallowed, with or without the benefit of the teeth you may have dropped.