Dimension Of Horror

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Ponderously Big Ben tolled midnight. The lean balding man on the couch awoke and sat up in the semidarkness, tossing off his blanket. He swung his bare feet to the carpeted floor and sat a moment in his rumpled undershirt and drawers, stretching and gathering strength, trying to shake off a paralyzing dread that clung to him from a nightmare he only dimly remembered. He had had many such nightmares in recent weeks.

«Damn,» he grumbled. «Bloody nuisance.»

The only reply was the muffled murmur of the city.

He stood up and groped toward the shadowy mass of his desk. The telephone rang as he knew it would. He picked up the receiver.

«Twenty-four hundred hours, sir,» came a bored masculine voice. «You wanted to be called… «

«Thank you, Peters. Could you have the car brought 'round?»

«Right away, sir. Main entrance or side?»

«Main. No, wait. Make that the side, on Lothbury.»

«As you wish, sir.»

He hung up and lit his desk lamp.

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