"
At the entrance to the great gates of The Walled House, two men
in livery were standing. One of them examined with care the red
cards of invitation, and as soon as he was satisfied the gates
were opened by some unseen agency. The moment the car had passed
through, they were closed again.
"Father seems thoroughly mediaeval over this business," Margaret
remarked, looking about her with interest. "What a quaint
courtyard, too! It really is quite Italian."
"It seems almost incredible that you have never been here!" Lady
Cynthia exclaimed. "Curiosity would have brought me if I had had
to climb over the wall!"
"It does seem absurd in one way," Margaret agreed, "but, as a
matter of fact, my father's attitude about the place has always
rather set me against it. I didn't feel that there was any
pleasure to be gained by coming here. I won't tell you really
what I did think. We must keep to our bargain. We are not to
anticipate."
At the front entrance, under the covered portico, the white
tickets which they had received in exchange for their tickets of
invitation, were carefully collected by another man, who stopped
the car a few yards from the broad, curving steps. After that,
there was no more suggestion of inhospitality. The front doors,
which were of enormous size and height, seemed to have been
removed, and in the great domed hall beyond Sir Timothy was
already receiving his guests.
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