There were two storeys above the ground-floor, and above them a projecting eave of carven stone that threatened the uplifted eye like a menace.

The tenth part of a slate, the merest chip of a corner, falling from the lofty summit of that pile, would have slain elephants.

And all the facade was black, black with ages of carbonic deposit.

The notion that the building was a town-hall that had got itself misplaced and perverted gradually left you as you gazed.

You perceived its falseness.