Chapter 8The old Catherine-Wheel looked up on the edge of the cliff like a bank of cloud. Someone had set a lantern on the wide flagstones in front of the door. There was something dazzling about the circle of light in what was now a dusk so deep as to be more bewildering than actual darkness. There was moss between the flagstones. One of them was cracked in a black jagged line running cornerways. The crack glistened under the light as if a snail had crawled there. The house stood up, an irregular bulk.
Now that they were out of the car, the sound of the sea came to them. They stood on the cracked flagstone. Jeremy pulled the bell. Almost at once the door was opened. The man who stood back from it appeared in sihouette against the light of an oil lamp which hung from the ceiling. Jeremy l
