From our windows, set low and facing a wall, we could see nothing.

But we could guess what the noise meant, the dull, earthy thuds when posts were set in the ground, the brisk, wooden clattering when one plank was laid to another.

We could not see the progress of the work, or hear the voices of the workmen, or catch the glare of their lights.

But we knew what they were doing.

They were raising the scaffold..