lights

There were various rumors about house No.13. There were no lights, badly painted blinds were always lowered, windows were black over the years. The feeling of loneliness and secrecy permeated the interior of No.13. Surprisingly there lived a young beautiful lady, about 20 years old. However, she was very frightened. And all this darkness was displayed on it.

Impatient of the numerous checks which had held up his car all the way from Croydon, Gerald Jennerton let down the window and looked out. London, he realised at once, was swallowing him up. Not the London upon which he had gazed half an hour ago from his earthward-gliding aeroplane–a huge, tumbled chaos of obscurity, with its far-spreading myriads of lights–but an engulfing wilderness of endless streets,...

This dark story is full of mystery and unsolved mysteries. It was the first real day of Spring, and most people lingered out of doors till the bare branches of the trees melted in the gloaming, and it was possible to see and hear no more, save for the promise of the little black herald singing madly from the blackthorn. In certain places, the lights were grouped into masses, because they lit up a trio...