A Grue of Ice

A Grue of Ice

My hands were already at Walter's throat as he fought to get clear of his harness. I kicked his feet from under him as he fumbled. I was still held in the strait-jacket grip of the Hotchkiss harness. Walter fell, rolled, dragged himself on one elbow, pullin the Luger from his waistband. He raised the automatic to fire.

'Hurtles into a maelstrom of action and suspense'
Sunday Times

'All the sustained excitement of a thriller in the boundless wastes of the Antarctic!'
Illustrated London News

'Vivid and exciting.'
Punch

**

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