This follows on from Hill's Woman In Black, another ghost story in a similar mode. James Monmouth, inveterate traveler, returns to England after a lifetime abroad, intent on researching the life of one Conrad Vane, whose travels inspired his own. Almost immediately upon his arrival in London the spookiness commences, with a mysterious ragged boy popping up in odd corners. As he begins his investigations, he receives warnings and dark hints and strong suggestions not to bother. Unfortunately all those warnings are a bit short on details, and when Monmouth discovers a connection to his own forgotten childhood, he finds himself almost compelled to seek out the truth.

Well, yes, it's great in many ways. Highly readable, richly textured with details of Victorian life, strong on atmosphere and character. Bits of it ooze menace and unease, and the whole thing, with its hints of childhood innocence corrupted, is rather strongly suggestive of The Turn Of The Screw. It operates almost as an anti-detective story, where nobody will tell the poor narrator what the hell is going on, every bit as frustrating to the reader as it is to poor James Monmouth. No less than two possibly senile, or maybe just ancient and befuddled characters notably fail to tell him anything informative, but at least they have that excuse. Those of sound mind who drop dark hints and vague suggestions are just downright irresponsible, not letting the poor chap have any idea what he's in for. By the time he gets to North Yorkshire, it's in danger if slipping into self-parody, as people go pale or get upset or mutter darkly every time he so much as looks at them.

An explanation, satisfying but perfunctory, comes at the end, but one wonders if Hill was reluctant to disturb the shape and tone of her elegantly crafted, highly atmospheric, beautifully structured Victorian ghost story with the potentially vastly more gothic melodrama hinted at in the past. This isn't a horror story. This is a ghost story. Which is almost a pity.