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