It was, no doubt, travelling towards the pillow, and as soon as it got there--but Wogan watching that hand beneath his dosed eyelids had again to admit that he was wrong.

It did not travel towards the pillow; to his astonishment it stole across towards him, it touched his chest very gently, and then he understood.

The hand was creeping upwards towards his throat.
Meanwhile Wogan had seen no face, though the face must be just below the level of the bed.

He only saw the hand and the arm behind it.

He moved as if in his sleep, and the hand disappeared.