He had not stopped the engine, and turning
the motor with the bonnet toward France, he carefully backed against
the iron grating. In a moment Vanno had climbed on to the top of the
car, had swung himself over the gate, and dropped down on the other
side. The chauffeur, who, like most of his countrymen, hated to be made
conspicuous, rejoiced that this was accomplished when the road was
empty. He would not have enjoyed being stared at even by a peasant in a
cart.
Peter was out in the road, watching Vanno's manoeuvres. "I wish I could
do that!" she exclaimed.
"I'll let you in, or send some one to unlock the gates if possible," he
promised. Then as he walked swiftly up the avenue his thoughts rushed
far ahead, and he forgot Peter.
The motor moved a little away from the gates, and waited. It waited a
long time and no sign of life showed on the blank face of the house. For
many minutes Peter stood in the road, looking up, hoping to see Vanno,
or a servant coming with a key. But nothing happened, and when she had
grown very tired of standing, she reluctantly went back to the car. She
sat leaning forward, her face at the window, gazing at the house; and at
last she began to be angry with Vanno. Surely he might come or send,
knowing how anxious she must be to hear of Mary. It was too
inconsiderate to leave her there in suspense!
Vanno hoped that he might find Mary in the garden; for mounting from
lower to higher levels, above the cypresses and olives which formed a
wind screen for upper terraces near the house, he saw viewpoints
furnished with seats of old, carved marble, pergolas roofed with masses
of banksia, and one long arbour, darkly green, with crimson camelias
flaming at the far end like a magic lamp.
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