ith
increasing admiration. Its long, red brick front with its masses of
clustering chimneys, a little bare and weather-beaten, impressed him
with a sense of dignity due as much to the purity of its architecture
as the singularity of its situation. Behind--a wonderfully effective
background--were the steep gardens from which, even in this uncertain
light, he caught faint glimpses of colouring subdued from brilliancy by
the twilight. These were encircled by a brick wall of great height, the
whole of the southern portion of which was enclosed with glass. From the
fragment of rock upon which he had seated himself, to the raised
stone terrace in front of the house, was an absolutely straight path,
beautifully kept like an avenue, with white posts on either side, and
built up to a considerable height above the broad tidal way which ran
for some distance by its side. It had almost the appearance of a racing
track, and its state of preservation in the midst of the wilderness was
little short of remarkable.

"This," Hamel said to himself, as he slowly produced a pipe from his
pocket and began to fill it with tobacco from a battered silver box, "is
a queer fix. Looks rather like the inn for me!"

"And who might you be, gentleman?"

He turned abruptly around towards his unseen questioner. A woman was
standing by the side of the rock upon which he was sitting, a woman from
the village, apparently, who must have come with noiseless footsteps
along the sandy way. She was dressed in rusty black, and in place of a
hat she wore a black woolen scarf tied around her head and underneath
her chin. Her face was lined, her hair of a deep brown plentifully
besprinkled with grey. She had a curious habit of moving her lips, even
when she was not speaking. She stood there smiling at him, but there was
something about that smile and about her look which puzzled him.

"I am just a visitor," he replied. "Who are you?"

She shook her head.

"I saw you come out of the Tower," she said, speaking with a strong
local accent and yet with a certain unusual correctness, "in at the
window and out of the door. You're a brave man."

"Why brave?" he asked.

She turned her head very slowly towards St. David's Hall. A gleam of
sunshine had caught one of the windows, which shone like fire. She
pointed toward it with her head.

"He's looking at you," she muttered. "He don't like strangers poking
around here, that I can tell you."

"And who is he?" Hame