Alongside Traveller’s River, some ten feet above the waterline on a cobblestone embankment, was River Street, imaginatively named, alongside its sister on the opposite bank, Waters Street. The black water was clear of boats, having all either entered the sea or been put to dock with the sunset curfew. Little gas-fired lamps on both sides dotted the banks on both sides and occasionally the metallic, wide-brimmed helmets of the night watch could be seen under the yellow light with their rifles shouldered.
The red-and-grey brick buildings, alive and decorated in the day, were silent and dull in the night. A few still had small dancing lights inside the windows, probably from candles or a fireplace, and smoke drifted from the dark chimneys. Nesting birds dotted the steep tiled roofs and perched in the shadows of the overhangs in clusters.
And in the side farthest from the lights on River Street, two figures ran, footsteps pattering on the cobble. The boy had on a