Ursula Howells, wife of merchant banker Griffith Jones, exchanges catty remarks with Honor Blackman at a party, goes to her lover, painter John van Eyssen, to see the painting of herself she is giving to her husband on his birthday, leaves abruptly to go to Hampstead Heath. When there, she screams at the camera and soon the police are investigating her murder. There are half a dozen fine candidates in this mystery.
This 58-minute B movie is directed at such a breakneck speed by Peter Graham Scott that there is no wasted time. There's also nothing in terms of grace notes, rendering the skilled players almost superfluous. True, Harry Ross, who turns up late, gets some humor out of his three-minute turn, but that's about the limit of it.
On the other hand, the movie does play fair enough with the rules of writing a mystery; I thought I had spotted the murderer early based on structure, but turned out to be wrong. As a result, if you enjoy a mystery without much in the way of frills, this is for you. Me, I want more.