Comes the Dark Stranger by Jack Higgins

sorry, sir. There must be some mistake. I’ve been sitting here for the past half-hour and you’re the first person to come through that door.’
    Something cold seemed to touch Shane on the back of the neck and he said slowly, ‘But I saw her come in here. I was only a few seconds behind her.’
    The old man shook his head and said stubbornly. ‘I’m sorry sir. You must be mistaken.’
    As he started to pick up his newspaper again, Shane reached across the desk and grabbed hold of his coat, pulling him forward. ‘You’re lying!’ he snarled. ‘Laura Faulkner just came through that door. You must have seen her.’
    There was fear in the old man’s eyes and he pulled himself free and backed away. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘If you don’t get out of here I’ll send for the police.’
    Shane took a deep breath to steady himself and said evenly. ‘Look, we can soon prove this one way or the other. Have you got a telephone directory?’ The old man produced one from a shelf and pushed it across the desk. Shane quickly flipped through the pages until he found the address. ‘Can I use this?’ he said, pointing to the telephone on the desk.
    ‘I’ll have to get the number for you through the switchboard,’ the old man told him, still wary.
    Shane gave him the number and waited impatiently while the old man pushed a line into one of the plugs on the switchboard and dialled the number. A moment later he turned and said, ‘You’re through now, sir.’
    Shane lifted the receiver to his ear and listened to the ringing at the other end. Sweat trickled down his brow and he brushed it away in an agony of impatience and then there was a click and Laura Faulkner’s voice sounded, remote and cool. ‘Hallo, who is that?’
    There was a moment of terrible silence as he struggled to speak and then he said, ‘Martin Shane here.’
    He heard a sudden intake of breath and then her voice sounded in his ear, cool and impersonal again. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Shane?’
    ‘It was nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing important. I thought I saw you in town a moment ago and I was just ringing to check.’
    She sounded puzzled. ‘But I haven’t been out of the house all day.’
    When he answered her, the words almost choked him. ‘Sorry I bothered you. It was just a silly mistake.’ He dropped the receiver into its cradle and stumbling across the hall, lurched down the steps into the fog.
    Something was happening to him that he couldn’t understand - something that caused the fear to rise inside him like a black tide that threatened to choke him. He was sure he had seen Laura Faulkner and yet at that moment she was four miles away in another part of the city. There had to be an explanation.
    He started to walk rapidly through narrow back streets in the direction of his hotel. The pain in his head was becoming worse and as he turned from one street into another, he paused for a moment and leaned against a lamp-post feeling suddenly faint.
    He heard a movement in the fog. He raised his head and listened and then the hair lifted on the back of his neck and he turned cold with fear. Slowly someone was coming towards him. Someone who dragged a club foot behind him that slithered horribly over the wet pavements as he advanced.
    Shane started forward into the fog. ‘Who’s there?’ he shouted. The footsteps stopped and there was silence. For a moment he stood there, straining his eyes into the fog and then he turned and ran along the pavement as fast as his legs would carry him.
    When he reached the corner at the end of the street, he paused and leaned against the wall sobbing for breath and then, quite close by and hidden by the fog, he heard the sound of the club foot again, sliding over the pavement towards him.
    Complete panic took possession of him and he ran along the next street as though the hounds of hell were breathing down his neck. As he turned into the narrow side street leading to his hotel, the pain blossomed