His little carriage moved towards the door. The brother and sister passed out. Esther led Gerald into the great dining-room, and from there, through the open windows, out on to the terrace. She gripped his shoulder and pointed down to the Tower. “Something,” she whispered in his ear, “is going to happen there.” CHAPTER XI The little station at which Hamel alighted was like an oasis in the middle of a flat stretch of sand and marsh. It consisted only of a few raised planks and a rude shelter--built, indeed, for the convenience of St. David’s Hall alone, for the nearest village was two miles away. The station-master, on his return from escorting the young lady to her car, stared at this other passenger in some surprise. “Which way to the sea?” Hamel asked. The man pointed to the white gates of the crossing. “You can take any of those paths you like, sir,” he said. “If you want to get to Salthouse, though, you should have got out at the next station.” “This will do for me,” Hamel replied cheerfully. “Be careful of the dikes,” the station-master advised him. “Some of them are pretty deep.” Hamel nodded, and passing through the white gates, made his way by a raised cattle track towards the sea. On either side of him flowed a narrow dike filled with salt-water. Beyond stretched the flat marshland, its mossy turf leavened with cracks and creeks of all widths, filled also with sea-slime and sea-water. A slight grey mist rested upon the more distant parts of the wilderness which he was crossing, a mist which seemed to be blown in from the sea in little puffs, resting for a time upon the earth, and then drifting up and fading away like soap bubbles.