Explore "The Purple Sickle Murders" by Freeman Wills Crofts on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The two men halted when they had relocked the door behind them, looking around and listening.
The night was intensely dark. There was no moon and a thick pall of cloud cut off even the meagre light of the stars. Above the wall bounding Tate's Lane they could see the upper stories of the houses opposite lit up faintly by the street lamps. Elsewhere not a gleam of light showed. It was silent also. Save for the complaining call of a marauding cat and the distant whistle of a train, no sound broke the stillness.