hrough
which they had entered was shut and bolted. At first they could hardly
believe their ill luck. They groped for the handle in the darkness, and
pushed and pulled and turned and tugged, but all in vain. They even
thumped on the door and called, hoping to attract the attention of a
gardener, but there was no reply. They were hopelessly locked inside the
underground passage.

Now thoroughly frightened they were almost in tears.

"We shall have to go back to the cove," faltered Irene.

"And show ourselves to Count Sutri, and ask him to take us back
somehow," gulped Peachy.

"We're in for the biggest row of our lives with Miss Rodgers," choked
Delia.

There was certainly nothing else to be done. Time was passing quickly,
and unless they could return at once to the Villa Camellia they would be
late for preparation. Very sadly and soberly they walked back along the
seashore to the rocks.

"_You_ explain, Peachy," urged the others, and Peachy, though she did
not relish the task thus thrust upon her, acknowledged that she was the
instigator of the whole affair and therefore responsible for helping her
companions out of a decidedly awkward situation.

The gentleman in the soft hat was still sitting under the shadow of the
rock smoking, but he rose and threw away his cigar as the deputation of
three advanced to address him. Peachy, in her very best Italian, began
to stammer out an explanation and excuses. He listened for a moment or
two, then shook his head and interrupted.

"Sorry I don't speak much Italian. I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"O-o-h! You're American!" gasped Peachy, her face one broad smile of
relief. "We--we thought you were Count Sutri."

"I haven't that honor! I'm only plain Mr. Bond. I've taken the Count's
villa, though, for two months. Can I be of any service to you?"

"We're Americans too," sparkled Peachy; "at least Delia and I are. We're
at school at the Villa Camellia up there. I--I'm sorry to say we're
trespassing here. We climbed over the wall into your garden and came
down the passage to the shore, and now the door's locked and we can't
get back again."

"And it's nearly preparation time," added Delia desperately.

Mr. Bond's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I'll take you back," he offered. "It was hard luck to find the door
locked. I've hardly explored the place properly myself yet. I came down
in the lift."

"The lift!" exclaimed Irene in surprise.

"Yes, here it is, an