Presently they ran through a little village, where a German prisoner straightened himself from his work in a garden and saluted.

Then through a wood which suddenly gave a vista of an avenue to a stately house, turreted in the French style, a quarter of a mile away; then over a little stream; then round a couple of corners, past a dreamy old church, and a long immemorial wall, and so out into the straight road along the river.

The sun gleamed on the water, and there were ships in view, a British and a couple of Norwegian tramps, ploughing slowly down to the sea.

On the far bank the level of the land was low, but on this side only some narrow apple-orchards and here and there lush water-meadows separated them from the hills.
The Croix de Guerre stood back from the road in a long garden just where a forest bridle-path wound down through a tiny village to the main road.
Their chauffeur backed the car all but out of sight into this path after they climbed out, and the three of them made for a sidedoor in a high wall.

Harold opened it and walked in.