''For I prefer beauty always a little soured. When it comes to me as a spoonful of syrup, I spit it out.''
Gilbert Hand hasn't been the same since his wife died. He's moved to a dull but respectable hotel where silence seems to brood in the hall and stairway. In a secret drawer he discovers a long, thick hank of human hair, and his world narrows down to two people - himself and the murderer