“This seems a very superior hotel,” the tall-hatted Ugly-Wugly was saying; “the grounds are laid out with what you might call taste.”
“We should have to go in by the back door,” said Mabel suddenly.
“The front door’s locked at half-past nine.”
A short, stout Ugly-Wugly in a yellow and blue cricket cap, who had hardly spoken, muttered something about an escapade, and about feeling quite young again.
And now they had skirted the marble-edged pool where the goldfish swam and glimmered, and where the great prehistoric beast had come down to bathe and drink. The water flashed white diamonds in the moonlight, and Gerald alone of them all saw that the scaly-plated vast lizard was even now rolling and wallowing there among the lily pads.
They hastened up the steps of the Temple of Flora. The
