There were no windows that I could see.

No sound came from it.

And farther down the street there was a lamp burning, whose light spelled safety from shots fired at the sound of foot-fall on suspicion.
I wanted that light between me and the Sikh platoon, yet did not dare run for it, since that would surely have started trouble.
It is my experience of Sikhs that when they start a thing they like to finish it.

They are very good indeed at explanations after the event.
The Sikhs must have seen us pass through the belt of gasoline light, but they did not challenge, so I went forward more slowly, with rather less of that creepy feeling that makes a man's spine seem to belong to some one else.

Toward its lower end the street curved considerably, and we went about a quarter of a mile before the glare of another light began to appear around the bend.
That was at a cross-street, up which I proposed to turn more or less in the direction of the hotel.