THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM Wrayson sat up with a sudden and violent start.

His pipe had fallen on to the floor, leaving a long trail of grey ash upon his waistcoat and trousers.

The electric lights were still burning, but of the fire nothing remained but a pile of ashes.

As soon as he could be said to be conscious of anything, he was conscious of two things.

One was that he was shivering with cold, the other that he was afraid.
Wrayson was by no means a coward.