noon
There , grey -- almost black -- against the white hillside , a mass of masonry loomed up through the weather ; the great circle of the War Prison . The road did not lead them to it direct . They must halt first at the bare village of Prince Town , and drink coffee and warm themselves at the `` Plume of Feathers Inn , '' before facing the last few hundred yards beneath the lee of North Hessary . But a little before noon , Dorothea -- still with a sense of being lifted on a platform miles above the world she knew -- alighted before a tremendous archway of piled granite set in a featureless wall , and closed with a sheeted gate of iron . A grey - coated sentry , pacing here in front of his snow-capped box , challenged and demanded their business . `` Visitors for the Commandant ! '' The sentry tugged at an iron bellpull , and a bell tolled twice within .