The two strands running through Clive Thurston's life are utterly incompatible. On the one hand is Carol, a rare bird in Hollywood, an actress with integrity and intelligence, and his own undistinguished literary output, a combination to bring him love, happiness and obscurity; on the other his fame, wealth and reputation-bringing play Rain Check, a one-off performance that cannot be repeated, and only Thurston knows why - and Eve. Even Carol does not know of the torments Thurston suffers on account of Eve. The dreadful counterpoint approaches its climatic cadence, driving him to the brink of despair, as he faces professional ruin, degradation and death, until at last, modulating the Eve-theme, he seeks to lead the melody back to Carol. Only James Hadley Chase could handle such a subject with such edge-of-chair assurance