Even in a full-length novel like "The Dark Daughters," Rhys Davies' talents as a short-story writer show through. Somewhere near the end of his book, in clear-cut relief, stands his imaginative concept complete: a house of hate dominated by three harpies who torment their father to death for his sins. This pretty Grand Guignol conceit takes care of everything. The rest of the book seems to be merely a recital of events leading up to the crime.

The author has a special touch with the dark unease of the Welsh temperament. Even in his most sedate vein of storytelling there is a trace of inner disorder, a faint stirring of horror which often leads the reader to the thin edge of fear. No matter where you start with Rhys Davies, you are apt to end up on intimate terms with the macabre.

In this novel Mr. Davies employs...