The Cliff is a locked room conundrum. In fact, the room the murder scene not only is locked from the inside, but also two hundred feet up the cold wall of Flint House. And the house looms on the edge of a cliff in Cornwall. Slip, and a falling body would strike the pale Rock and its legend of doomed love. "A lonely, weird place," Scotland Yard's Det. Grant sums it up, and that's even before he finds out what happened. The deceased is Jasper Ringwald, a bitter and silent man obsessed with proving his noble linage and claim to a great estate. At last, he succeeds only to be found dead in the locked room, shot in the chest. Suicide? Grant suspects not. The house is full of suspects: servants, relatives, a lovely daughter with a ruinous secret. DuBois knows all the conventions of a mystery novel he has written more than twenty and how to set the table with plenty of red herrings. But the question is more than who done it. Tension builds, too, on the identity of the Cliff's next victim. The one word to describe The Rock is, literally: Cliffhanger.