I had scarcely begun to observe the two women when I caught the sound

of footsteps on the stone stair. The footsteps approached; they

entered the room where I was. I made no sound. Without any hesitation

the footsteps arrived at my corner, and a pair of hands touched my

legs. Then I knew it was time to act. Jumping down from the ledge, I

clasped the intruder by the head, and we rolled over together,

struggling. But he was a short man, apparently stiff in the limbs, and

in ten seconds or thereabouts I had him flat on his back, and my hand

at his throat.

"Don't move," I advised him.

In that faint light I could not see him, so I struck a match, and held

it over the man's face. We gazed at each other, breathing heavily.

"Good God!" the man exclaimed.

It was Sir Cyril Smart.




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