But at last he came to a part where it was more level and the valley opened out. And there， on the other side of the river， quite close to him， in the middle of a little plain between two hills， he saw what must be the White Witch’s House. And the moon was shining brighter than ever. The House was really a small castle. It seemed to be all towers； little towers with long pointed spires on them， sharp as needles. They looked like huge dunce‘s caps or sorcerer’s caps. And they shone in the moonlight and their long shadows looked strange on the snow. Edmund began to be afraid of the House.
But it was too late to think of turning back now. He crossed the river on the ice and walked up to the House. There was nothing stirring； not the slightest sound anywhere. Even his own feet made no noise on the deep newly.fallen snow. He walked on and on， past corner after corner of the House， and past turret after turret to find the door. He had to go right round to the far side before he found it. It was a huge arch but the great iron gates stood wide open.