A woman is dead in her flat. It turns out that she was not a good girl, although I write that not in its usual sense. She was a blackmailer, and police inspector Garry Marsh interviews four persons of interest: her employer - for her day job - publisher Henry Kendall; Edward Underdown, who has had two books published by Kendall, but has failed to impress the critics or the public; John Robertson Justice, Kendall's most famous and successful author; and Valerie Hobson, Justice's wife, and Underdown's lover. While the investigation hangs fire, Justice, dying, works out a plan of vengeance that is very obscure until the end.
That's why I am willing to forgive a small imbecility whose only purpose is to increase the tension. It's a fine, suspenseful thriller that keeps the audience guessing as to what's going on, and who killed the dead woman.... even though she isn't mentioned after the first ten minutes until nearly the end. That, and Mr. Justice, playing one of his signature roles: brilliant, self-absorbed, self-award, witty at his own expense, and a tyrant feared by all who know him. Plus, if the role called for it, an expert falconer in real life. It's a pity, but I think it never did.
This top cast made this cheap B movie into an A event. Writer-director John Gilling never did better by himself.