Through the moors and stony hills the car sped until it drew near a solitary house perched on the edge of the dark cliffs high above the tumbling waters of the yeasty sea which foamed at their base.
The car stopped by the gate where the moor road ended.

The mourners alighted and entered the gate.

Their approach was observed from within, for as they neared the house the front door was opened by an elderly man-servant with a brown and hawk-beaked face.
Walking rapidly ahead Robert Turold led the way into a front sitting-room lighted by a window overlooking the sea.

There was an air of purpose in his movements, but an appearance of strain in his careworn face and twitching lips.

He glanced at the others in a preoccupied way, but started perceptibly as his eye fell upon his daughter.
"There is no need for you to remain, Sisily," he said in a harsh dry voice.
Sisily turned away without speaking.