A London fog solid substantial yellow as an old dog's tooth or a jaundiced eye. You could
not look through it nor yet gaze up and down it nor over it and you only thought you saw it.
The eye became impotent untrustworthy all senses lay fallow except that of touch the skin
alone conveyed to you with promptness and no incertitude that this thing had substance. You
could feel it you could open and shut your hands and sense it on your palms and it penetrated
your clothes and beaded your spectacles and rings and bracelets and shoe-buckles. It was
nightmare bereft of its pillows grown somnambulistic and London became the antechamber to
Hades lackeyed by idle dreams and peopled by mistakes. Reprint of the 1915 classic mystery
story.
