Like a clap of thunder, the north wind, rushing seawards, seemed suddenly to threaten the ancient little building with destruction. The window sashes rattled, the beams which supported the roof creaked and groaned, the oil lamps by which alone the place was lit swung perilously in their chains. A row of maps designed for the instruction of the young.the place was a schoolhouse.commenced a devil’s dance against the wall. In the street without we heard the crash of a fallen chimneypot. My audience of four rose timorously to its feet, and I, glad of the excuse, folded my notes and stepped from the slightly raised platform on to the floor.
Über den Autor
Edward Phillips Oppenheim (22 October 1866 – 3 February 1946) was an English novelist, in his lifetime a major and successful writer of genre fiction including thrillers.
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