A few minutes later we had reached the lodge-gates, a maze of fantastic tracery in wrought iron, with weather-bitten pillars on either side, blotched with lichens, and surmounted by the boars' heads of the Baskervilles. The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold.
W parę minut potem wjeżdżaliśmy już w pałacową bramę, staroświecką, sklepioną; po chwili ukazał nam się gmach, przebudowany za południowo-afrykańskie złoto sir Karola.