IT was a bad night in London, not wild or turbulent, but swathed to the eyes like an Eastern woman in a soft grey garment of fog. It engulfed the walled canyons of the city through which the traffic had roared all day, plugged up the maze of dark side streets, and blotted out the open squares. Close to the ground it was thick, viscous, impenetrable, so that one could not see a yard ahead, and walked ghost like, adventuring into a strange world.
Used availability for Edgar Wallace's The Nine Bears
November 1987 : UK Hardback
August 1987 : USA Hardback