author - "Octavus Roy Cohen"

ly thing which appeared black and was not black. Spike shuddered. He had never liked the sight of blood.The match spluttered and went out. Spike looked around. He felt hopelessly alone. Not a pedestrian; not a light. The houses, set well back from the street, were dark, forbiddingly dark. He saw a street-car rattle past, bound on the final run of the night for the car-sheds at East End. Then he was alone again--alone and frightened. He felt the necessity for action. He must do