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.