He looked overweight around the midriff, though nowhere else, and
she wondered whether perhaps he drank too much. He looked weary, as
if he had been up most of the night conducting his investigations .
. . For Oxford, the arrival of twenty-seven American tourists is
nothing out of the ordinary . . . until one of their number is
found dead in Room 310 at the Randolph Hotel. It looks like a
sudden – and tragic – accident. Only Chief Inspector Morse appears
not to overlook the simultaneous theft of a jewel-encrusted antique
from the victim’s handbag . . . Then, two days later, a naked and
battered corpse is dragged from the River Cherwell. A coincidence?
Maybe. But this time Morse is determined to prove the link . . .