"Good—and you really think it better not to risk the road?"
The duke drew a large scale map of Corbo and its surroundings towards him.
"It's unnecessary. The Sebastin Park, so Señora Paluda says, merges into the forest, and once there the way seems clear. The distance appears to be less that way, and I do not think we can go wrong. We will leave ourselves plenty of time."
A meal was taken at three o'clock and immediately afterwards the men set out, each armed with a revolver. They did not consider it needful to take other help with them—secrecy was half the battle. Edward felt his misgivings returning to him in full force as he noticed that, in spite of the warm sun, the duke twisted a thick muffler round his neck, burying his chin and mouth in the folds.
The Sebastin Park, given to the people of San Pietro by their late ill-fated king, was a magnificent stretch of vivid lawns and trim gravel paths. The semi-tropical vegetation was trained and cultivated to show to the best advantage and everywhere little statues and fountains gleamed white in the sun. There were, also, on the outer edges of the park, walks more secluded and screened by shrubberies of rhododendrons.
Edward frowned as he noticed that his companion chose these outer pathways in preference to the broad walks, where nursemaids and their little charges swarmed and idle promenaders walked slowly up and down. With chin buried in his muffler, the Duc de Choleaux Lasuer walked quickly, his eyes nervously looking from side to side.
And then they were in the forest. The cultivation was left behind and there was only a little zigzag path winding between the trunks of the great pines. Through them to the left a glimpse of the grey walls of the Palace grounds showed sombre against the sky. Edward pointed this out to the duke and spoke of the dying king. He detected a shadow pass over the boyish face, and the duke's next remark was on an entirely different subject. A suspicion of the truth was born in Edward's mind at that moment.
But the brisk action and the clean scents of the woodland drove all thoughts save those of Galva from his mind and filled him with the spirit of romance and the joy of living. Uncle Jasper's letter was forgotten and Edward became again, in his own eyes, the knight-errant and hero.
They reached the precincts of the Casa Luzo from the back and long before they had expected. Edward's watch told them that it was eight o'clock, and the men had to wait with what patience they could the passing of the next two hours. They took their places upon a fallen tree trunk in a clearing, and lit cigarettes and looked at the moon rising over the Yeldo hills and at the black and green mystery of the forest around them. The silence was intense and neither of the waiting men seemed anxious to break the magic of it.
And then as it grew chilly they reconnoitred, taking stock of their position. They made a wide detour of the house, penetrating deeply into the wood. They saw not a soul, but once the eerie glow of a charcoal-burner splashed redly between the trees.