They let themselves out softly, and in another minute were walking down the village street. The clocks were at "summer time", an hour forward, so it was really only four o'clock. The sun had not risen yet, though it was quite light already. The air felt deliciously fresh, birds were singing, and cattle lowing. Here and there a cottage door opened, and a labourer came out, who looked at them with speculative curiosity as they passed by. They were soon through the village and along the road that led in the direction of the Manor. On either side lay pastures with clumps of yellow cowslips, the faint fragrance of which was wafted on the pleasant air. Diana could not resist scaling a fence and going to gather some, though she got her shoes soaked with the morning dew. Down a hill, along the river side, and up through a long avenue of elms ran the road, till at last a high oak fence took the place of the hedge; this in its turn gave way to a wall, and presently to the left loomed a pair of great ornamental iron gates, with a lodge at the side.
An archway across, surmounted by a stone escutcheon, bore the Clifford crest, so there was no doubt that they had reached their destination. The gates were padlocked together, and the blinds were drawn in the lodge; evidently the keeper was not an early bird.
"How are we going to get in?" asked Diana.
"Not here, certainly. We'll go back to that oak paling, and climb over. Don't you feel as if we were poachers?"
"Yes, or burglars! I guess we've got to burgle quietly. Hope the old lady hasn't set man-traps in her park."
"Or doesn't leave savage bloodhounds to roam at large and guard the premises. Well, we shall have to take our chance. It's rather like storming a fortress—isn't it?"
"I call it precious!" chuckled Diana.
The fence did not look too easy to scale. It was of solid oak pales set upright, and was about six feet in height. Its straight surface did not offer any foothold. For some distance they wandered along, rather discouraged, but at last an overhanging tree seemed to promise hope. Lenox lifted up Diana till she could catch hold of a branch, then, with considerable boosting and scrambling, she swung herself over. Lenox dropped after her directly, and the adventurous pair stood within the park.
So far, so good. They were certainly trespassing, but they considered that their errand justified the deed. Lenox had brought his hand camera, and hoped to get a snap-shot of the old place to take back to America to show his father. He had ascertained that no picture post cards of it were obtainable in the village. They could see the twisted chimneys rising over the top of a thick grove of trees and shrubs, so they turned their steps in that direction. Over some grassy park-like land they tramped, where rabbits were still scuttling about, and a few tame deer were grazing; then through a thicket of trees and under a belt of ornamental shrubs. All at once, as they scrambled from the shade of some rhododendrons, they caught their first view of the Manor. It was a glorious old mansion, built partly in half-timber and partly in grey stone, with an embattled tower for entrance, and a stone bridge crossing the moat that encircled the walls. The morning sun shone direct on its mullioned, diamond-paned windows, its twisted chimney stalks, ivy-clad walls, and smooth, green stretch of water. Nothing could have been more charming for a photograph, and, to make the picture absolutely perfect, a pair of stately swans came sailing along the moat. Lenox pulled his camera from its case, ventured forth from the cover of the bushes, and began to focus. Diana followed closely at his elbow. They were brimful of excitement. Here they were actually facing the "ancestral home" of the Clifford family.
"Don't you wish you lived here?" sighed Diana.