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