“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.  Being without wraps, the little party made an immediate entrance.  Sir Timothy, who was talking to one of the best-known of the foreign ambassadors, took a step forward to meet them.

“Welcome,” he said, “you, the most unique party, at least, amongst my guests.  Prince, may I present you to my daughter, Mrs. Hilditch?  Lady Cynthia Milton and Mr. Ledsam you know, I believe.”

“Your father has just been preparing me for this pleasure,” the Prince remarked, with a smile.  “I am delighted that his views as regards these wonderful parties are becoming a little more—­would it be correct to say latitudinarian?  He has certainly been very strict up to now.”

“It is the first time I have been vouchsafed an invitation,” Margaret confessed.

“You will find much to interest you,” the Prince observed.  “For myself, I love the sport of which your father is so noble a patron.  That, without doubt, though, is a side of his entertainment of which you will know nothing.”

Sir Timothy, choosing a moment’s respite from the inflowing stream of guests, came once more across to them.

“I am going to leave you, my honoured guests from The Sanctuary,” he said, with a faint smile, “to yourselves for a short time.  In the room to your left, supper is being served.  In front is the dancing-gallery.  To the right, as you see, is the lounge leading into the winter-garden.  The gymnasium is closed until midnight.  Any other part of the place please explore at your leisure, but I am going to ask you one thing.  I want you to meet me in a room which I will show you, at a quarter to twelve.”

He led them down one of the corridors which opened from the hall.  Before the first door on the right a man-servant was standing as though on sentry duty.  Sir Timothy tapped the panel of the door with his forefinger.