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.