This is masterful. Look at this...
Conan stood for a moment in the door, the glow of the bronze lamp behind him, looking down the road to where it vanished among the dense palms. Their leaves rustled together in the faint breeze; beyond them lay the naked desert. Far up the street, in the other direction, lights gleamed and the noises of the city came faintly to him. Here was only starlight, the whispering of the palm-leaves, and beyond that low wall, the dust of the road and the deserted huts thrusting their flat roofs against the low stars. Somewhere beyond the palm groves a drum began.
The garbled warnings of the Zuagir returned to him, seeming somehow less fantastic than they has seemed on the crowded, sunlit streets. He wondered again at the riddle of those empty huts. Why did the beggars shun them? He turned back into the chamber, shut the door and bolted it.
Maybe you need more context to soak up how masterful Howard's words are here (like, the entire first chapter), but I marvel at it. In the first paragraph, he put me THERE. I'm right THERE, standing with Conan, hearing the sounds in the distance, feeling the light breeze on my face, the heat from the desert dissipate.
And then, in the second paragraph, he reminds me of times when I've become spooked for no real reason. Just a feeling comes over me, usually, as with Conan here, because of what someone said (or I watched, read, or dreamt about).
It's masterful stuff. It truly is.
Even this little bit gives you a clue that the mighty Conan isn't a two-dimensional action character. He's a real human being, for, as much as he's seen in his life (Conan is in his 30's in this story), as much as he's done, the invincible barbarian__can__still___get__spooked. Just like the rest of us.
Despite £ being notably stronger back then(=more expensive for me) it was still bloody good value.
