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.