"Put your hands up or I'll shoot," Scaramouche thundered. You had gone out for a night walk and found yourself up against your possible murderer. Heart racing, you stood there with your back against the wall, the sinister glint of a knife in the stranger's hand sending shivers down your spine.

The killer, faced with the imminent threat of a gunshot, dropped his knife with a clatter and, in a panic, disappeared into the inky darkness, leaving you trembling but unharmed.