Twelve o’clock
The tiny village lay behind them , silent and asleep ; in front , nothing but the marshes , uninhabited , lonely and quiet , the golf club-house empty and deserted . They stood and watched , their faces turned steadfastly in a certain direction . Gradually their eyes , growing accustomed to the dim and changing light , could pierce the black line above the grey where the sea came stealing up the sandy places with low murmurs , throwing with every wave longer arms into the land . `` Twelve o'clock ! '' Collins muttered . Suddenly Granet 's fingers dug into his shoulder . From out of that pall of velvet darkness which hung below the clouds , came for a single moment a vision of violet light .