half past six
That 's right ! ' murmured the dying man . _ Samson and Delilah _ A man got down from the motor-omnibus that runs from Penzance to St Just-in-Penwith , and turned northwards , uphill towards the Polestar . It was only half past six , but already the stars were out , a cold little wind was blowing from the sea , and the crystalline , three-pulse flash of the lighthouse below the cliffs beat rhythmically in the first darkness . The man was alone . He went his way unhesitating , but looked from side to side with cautious curiosity . Tall , ruined power-houses of tin-mines loomed in the darkness from time to time , like remnants of some by-gone civilization .