I am the driver of a four-wheeled cab.

On the fourteenth of March, the day of the great fog, I was waiting at Vauxhall Station, where I had just set down a fare.

About five o'clock a lady came and told me to drive over to Upper Kennington Lane to take up a passenger.

She was a middle-sized woman.

I could not tell what her age was, or what she was like, because her head was wrapped up in a sort of knitted, woollen veil to keep out the fog.