But Peter, more discreet, yawned and stirred impatiently. “I am just dying for something to eat!” he protested. “Let her out, driver.”
For appearance’s sake they drove nearly to the outskirts of Otrabanda, and then, as though perversely, Roddy declared he wanted to drive back the way they had come and breakfast at the Café Ducrot.
“Why should we eat in a hot, smelly dining-room,” he demanded in tones intended to reach the driver, “when we can eat under orange trees?”
Peter, with apparent reluctance, assented.
“Oh, have it your own way,” he said. “Personally, I could eat under any tree—under a gallows-tree.”
For the second time they passed the Casa Blanca, and, while apparently intent on planning an extensive breakfast, their eyes photographed its every feature. Now, as the driver was not observing them, they were able to note the position of the entrances, of the windows, rising behind iron bars, from a terrace of white and black marble. They noted the wing, used as a stable for horses and carriages, and, what was of greater interest, that a hand-rail disappeared over the edge of the cliff and suggested a landing-pier below.
But of those who lived in the white palace there was no sign. It hurt Roddy to think that if, from the house, the inmates noted the two young men in a public carriage, peering at their home, they would regard the strangers only as impertinent sighters. They could not know that the eyes of the tourists were filled with pity, that, at the sight of the villa on the cliff the heart of each had quickened with kindly emotions, with excitement, with the hope of possible adventure.
Roddy clutched Peter by the wrist; with the other hand he pointed quickly. Through a narrow opening in a thicket that stood a few rods from the house Peter descried the formal lines of a tennis court. Roddy raised his eyebrows significantly. His smile was radiant, triumphant.
“Which seems to prove,” he remarked enigmatically, “that certain parties of the first part are neither aged nor infirm.”
His deduction gave him such satisfaction that when they drew up at the Café Ducrot he was still smiling.