"You are not dining here, sir? "he enquired.
Sir Timothy shook his head.
"No, I am dining late at The Sanctuary," he replied. "I just
strolled over to see how the preparations were going on. I shall
be sleeping over there, too. Any prowlers?"
"Photographer brought some steps and photographed the horses in
the park from the top of the wall this afternoon, sir," the man
announced. "Jenkins let him go. Two or three pressmen sent in
their cards to you, but they were not allowed to pass the lodge."
Sir Timothy nodded. Soon he left the house and crossed the park
towards The Sanctuary. He was followed all the way by horses, of
which there were more than thirty in the great enclosure. One
mare greeted him with a neigh of welcome and plodded slowly after
him. Another pressed her nose against his shoulder and walked by
his side, with his hand upon her neck. Sir Timothy looked a
little nervously around, but the park itself lay almost like a
deep green pool, unobserved, and invisible from anywhere except
the house itself. He spoke a few words to each of the horses,
and, producing his key, passed through the door in the wall into
The Sanctuary garden, closing it quickly as he recognised Francis
standing under the cedar-tree.
"Has Lady Cynthia arrived yet?" he enquired.
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