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
Cafe Ducrot he was still smiling.

Within the short hour that had elapsed since they had last seen the
Ducrot garden a surprising transformation had taken place. No longer
the orange grove lay slumbering in silence. No longer the waiters
dozed beside the marble-topped tables. Drawn up outside the iron fence
that protected the garden from the road a half-dozen fiery Venezuelan
ponies under heavy saddles, and as many more fastened to landaus and
dog-carts, were neighing, squealing, jangling their silver harness,
and stamping holes in the highway. On the inside, through the heavy
foliage of the orange trees, came the voice of the maitre d'hotel,
from the kitchen the fat chef bellowed commands. The pebbles on the
walks grated harshly beneath the flying feet of the waiters.

Seated at breakfast around a long table in the far end of the garden
were over twenty men, and that it was in their service the restaurant
had roused itself was fairly evident. The gentlemen who made up the
breakfast-party were not the broadly-built, blonde Dutchmen of the
island, but Venezuelans. And a young and handsome Venezuelan, seated
at the head of the table, and facing the entrance to the garden, was
apparently the person in whose honor they were assembled. So much
younger, at least in looks, than the others, was the chief guest, that
Peter, who was displeased by this invasion of their sleeping palace,
suggested it was a coming-of-age party.

It was some time before the signals of the Americans were regarded.
Although