Scarhaven Keep by J. S. Fletcher (best value ebook reader TXT) 📕

the angles and buttressed all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot.

“Now there’s going to be a row!⁠—between me and Chatfield,” murmured Audrey. “You play spectator⁠—don’t say a word. Leave it to me. We are on our rights along this path⁠—take no notice of Peter.”

But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen yards away.

“I thought I’d told you as you wasn’t to come near these here ruins!” he said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone’s fingers itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his person. “My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I mean ’em to be obeyed. You’ll turn straight back where you came from, miss, and in future do as I instruct⁠—d’ye hear that, now?”

“If you expect me to keep quiet or dumb under that sort of thing,” whispered Copplestone, bending towards Audrey, “you’re very much mistaken in me! I shall give this fellow a lesson in another minute if⁠—”

“Well, wait another minute, then,” said Audrey, who had continued to walk forward, steadily regarding the agent’s threatening figure. “Let me talk a little, first⁠—I’m enjoying it. Are you addressing me, Mr. Chatfield?” she went on in her sweetest accents. “I hear you speaking, but I don’t know if you are speaking to me. If so, you needn’t shout.”

“You know very well who I’m a-speaking to,” growled Chatfield. “I told you you wasn’t to come near these ruins⁠—it’s forbidden, by order. You’ll take yourself off, and that there young man with you⁠—we want no paid spies hereabouts!”

“If you speak to me like that again I’ll knock you down!” exclaimed Copplestone, stepping forward before Audrey could stop him. “Or to this lady, either. Stand aside, will you?”

Chatfield twisted on his heel with a surprising agility⁠—not to stand aside, but to wave his arm to the men who stood here and there, behind him.

“Here, you!” he shouted. “Here, this way, all of you! This here fellow’s threatening me with assault. You lay a finger on me, you young snapper, and I’ll have you in the lockup in ten minutes. Stand between us, you men!⁠—he’s for knocking me down. Now then!” he went on, as the bodyguard got between him and Copplestone, “off you go, out o’ these grounds, both of you⁠—quick! I’ll have no defiance of my orders from neither gel nor boy, man nor woman. Out you go, now⁠—or you’ll be put out.”

But Audrey continued to advance, still watching the agent. “You’re under a mistake, Mr. Chatfield,” she said calmly. “You will observe that Mr. Copplestone and I are on this path. You know very well that this is a public footpath, with a proper and legal right-of-way from time immemorial. You can’t turn us off it, you know⁠—without exposing yourself to all sorts of pains and penalties. You men know that, too,” she continued, turning to the labourers and dropping her bantering tone. “You all know this is a public footpath. So stand out of our way, or I’ll summon every one of you!”

The last words were spoken with so much force and decision that the three labourers involuntarily moved aside. But Chatfield hastened to oppose Audrey’s progress, planting himself in front of a wicket gate which there stood across the path, and he laughed sneeringly.

“And where would you find money to take summonses out?” he said, with a look of contempt, “I should think you and your mother’s something better to do with your bit o’ money than that. Now then, no more words!⁠—back you turn!”

Copplestone’s temper had been gradually rising during the last few minutes. Now, at the man’s carefully measured taunts, he let it go. Before Chatfield or the labourers saw what he was at, he sprang on the agent’s big form, grasped him by the neck with one hand, twisted his oak staff away from him with the other, flung him headlong on the turf, and raised the staff threateningly.

“Now!” he said, “beg Miss Greyle’s pardon, instantly, or I’ll split your wicked old head for you. Quick, man⁠—I mean it!”

Before Chatfield, moaning and groaning, could find his voice capable of words, Marston Greyle, pale and excited, came round a corner of the ruins.

“What’s this, what’s all this?” he demanded. “Here, yon sir, what are you doing with that stick! What⁠—”

“I’m about to chastise your agent for his scoundrelly insolence to your cousin,” retorted Copplestone with cheerful determination. “Now then, my man, quick⁠—I always keep my word!”

“Hand the stick to Mr. Marston Greyle, Mr. Copplestone,” said Audrey in her demurest manner. “I’m sure he would beat Chatfield soundly if he had heard what he said to me⁠—his cousin.”

“Thank you, but I’m in possession,” said Copplestone, grimly. “Mr. Marston Greyle can kick him when I’ve thrashed him. Now, then⁠—are you going to beg Miss Greyle’s pardon, you hoary sinner?”

“What on earth is it all about?” exclaimed Greyle, obviously upset and afraid. “Chatfield, what have you been saying? Go away, you men⁠—go away, all of you, at once. Mr. Copplestone, don’t hit him. Audrey, what is it? Hang it all!⁠—I seem to have nothing but bother⁠—it’s most annoying. What is it, I say?”

“It is merely, Marston, that your agent there, after trying to turn Mr. Copplestone and myself off this public footpath, insulted me with shameful taunts about my mother’s poverty,” replied Audrey. “That’s all! Whereupon⁠—as you were not here to do it⁠—Mr. Copplestone promptly and very properly knocked him down. And now⁠—is Mr. Copplestone to punish him or⁠—will you?”

Copplestone, keeping a sharp eye on the groaning and sputtering agent, contrived at the same time to turn a corner of it on Marston Greyle. That momentary glance showed