by Anthony Hope
_Chapter Five_
THE BEGINNING OF WAR
An enviable characteristic of Lord Lynborough's was that, when he hadlaid the fuse, he could wait patiently for the explosion. (That lastword tends to recur in connection with him.) Provided he knew that hisadventure and his joke were coming, he occupied the intervalprofitably--which is to say, as agreeably as he could. Having launchedthe padlock--his symbolical ultimatum--and asserted his right, he spentthe morning in dictating to Roger Wilbraham a full, particular, andveracious account of his early differences with the Dean of ChristChurch. Roger found his task entertaining, for Lynborough's mimicry ofhis distinguished opponent was excellent. Stabb meanwhile was among thetombs in an adjacent apartment.
This studious tranquillity was disturbed by the announcement of a callfrom Mr. Stillford. Not without difficulty he had persuaded the Marchesato let him reconnoiter the ground--to try, if it seemed desirable, theeffect of a bit of "bluff"--at any rate to discover, if he could,something of the enemy's plan of campaign. Stillford was, in truth, nota little afraid of a lawsuit!
Lynborough denied himself to no man, and received with courtesy everyman who came. But his face grew grim and his manner distant whenStillford discounted the favorable effect produced by his appearance andmanner--also by his name, well known in the county--by confessing thathe called in the capacity of the Marchesa's solicitor.
"A solicitor?" said Lynborough, slightly raising his brows.
"Yes. The Marchesa does me the honor to place her confidence in me; andit occurs to me that, before this unfortunate dispute----"
"Why unfortunate?" interrupted Lynborough with an air of some surprise.
"Surely it is--between neighbors? The Castle and the Grange should befriends." His cunning suggestion elicited no response. "It occurred tome," he continued, somewhat less glibly, "that, before further annoyanceor expense was caused, it might be well if I talked matters over withyour lordship's solicitor."
"Sir," said Lynborough, "saving your presence--which, I must beg you toremember, was not invited by me--I don't like solicitors. I have nosolicitor. I shall never have a solicitor. You can't talk with anon-existent person."
"But proceedings are the natural--the almost inevitable--result of sucha situation as your action has created, Lord Lynborough. My client can'tbe flouted, she can't have her indubitable rights outraged----"
"Do you think they're indubitable?" Lynborough put in, with a suddenquick flash of his eyes.
For an instant Stillford hesitated. Then he made his orthodox reply. "AsI am instructed, they certainly are."
"Ah!" said Lynborough dryly.
"No professional man could say more than that, Lord Lynborough."
"And they all say just as much! If I say anything you don't like, againremember that this interview is not of my seeking, Mr. Stillford."
Stillford waxed a trifle sarcastic. "You'll conduct your case inperson?" he asked.
"If you hale me to court, I shall. Otherwise there's no question of acase."
This time Stillford's eyes brightened; yet still he doubted Lynborough'smeaning.
"We shouldn't hesitate to take our case into court."
"Since you're wrong, you'd probably win," said Lynborough, with a smile."But I'd make it cost you the devil of a lot of money. That, at least,the law can do--I'm not aware that it can do much else. But as far asI'm concerned, I should as soon appeal to the Pope of Rome in thismatter as to a law-court--sooner in fact."
Stillford grew more confidently happy--and more amazed at Lynborough.
"But you've no right to--er--assert rights if you don't intend tosupport them."
"I do intend to support them, Mr. Stillford. That you'll very soon findout."
"By force?" Stillford himself was gratified by the shocked solemnitywhich he achieved in this question.
"If so, your side has no prejudice against legal proceedings. Prisonsare not strange to me----"
"What?" Stillford was a little startled. He had not heard all thestories about Lord Lynborough.
"I say, prisons are not strange to me. If necessary, I can do a month. Iam, however, not altogether a novice in the somewhat degrading art ofgetting the other man to hit first. Then he goes to prison, doesn't he?Just like the law! As if that had anything to do with the merits!"
Stillford kept his eye on the point valuable to him. "By supporting yourclaim I intended to convey supporting it by legal action."
"Oh, the cunning of this world, the cunning of this world, Roger!" Heflung himself into an arm-chair, laughing. Stillford was already seated."Take a cigarette, Mr. Stillford. You want to know whether I'm going tolaw or not, don't you? Well, I'm not. Is there anything else you want toknow? Oh, by the way, we don't abstain from the law because we don'tknow the law. Permit me--Mr. Stillford, solicitor--Mr. Roger Wilbraham,of the Middle Temple, Esquire, barrister-at-law. Had I known you werecoming, Roger should have worn his wig. No, no, we know the law--but wehate it."
Stillford was jubilant at a substantial gain--the appeal to law laywithin the Marchesa's choice now; and that was in his view a greatadvantage. But he was legitimately irritated by Lynborough's sneers athis profession.
"So do most of the people who belong to--the people to whom prisons arenot strange, Lord Lynborough."
"Apostles--and so on?" asked Lynborough airily.
"I hardly recognize your lordship as belonging tothat--er--er--category."
"That's the worst of it--nobody will," Lynborough admitted candidly. Anote of sincere, if whimsical, regret sounded in his voice. "I've beentrying for fifteen years. Yet some day I may be known as St. Ambrose!"His tones fell to despondency again. "St. Ambrose the Less, though--yes,I'm afraid the Less. Apostles--even Saints--are much handicapped inthese days, Mr. Stillford."
Stillford rose to his feet. "You've no more to say to me, LordLynborough?"
"I don't know that I ever had anything to say to you, Mr. Stillford. Youmust have gathered before now that I intend to use Beach Path."
"My client intends to prevent you."
"Yes?--Well, you're three able-bodied men down there--so my man tellsme--you, and the Colonel, and the Captain. And we're three up here. Itseems to me fair enough."
"You don't really contemplate settling the matter by personal conflict?"He was half amused, yet genuinely stricken in his habits of thought.
"Entirely a question for your side. We shall use the path." Lynboroughcocked his head on one side, looking up at the sturdy lawyer with amischievous amusement. "I shall harry you, Mr. Stillford--day and nightI shall harry you. If you mean to keep me off that path, vigils will beyour portion. And you won't succeed."
"I make a last appeal to your lordship. The matter could, I believe, beadjusted on an amicable basis. The Marchesa could be prevailed upon togrant permission----"
"I'd just as soon ask her permission to breathe," interruptedLynborough.
"Then my mission is at an end."
"I congratulate you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, you've found out the chief thing you wanted to know, haven't you?If you'd asked it point-blank, we should have saved a lot of time.Good-by, Mr. Stillford. Roger, the bell's in reach of your hand."
"You're pleased to be amused at my expense?" Stillford had grown huffy.
"No--only don't think you've been clever at mine," Lynborough retortedplacidly.
So they parted. Lynborough went back to his Dean, Stillford to theMarchesa. Still ruffled in his plumes, feeling that he had been chaffedand had made no adequate reply, yet still happy in the solid, theimportant fact which he had ascertained, he made his report to hisclient. He refrained from openly congratulating her on not beingchallenged to a legal fight; he contented himself with observing that itwas convenient to be able to choose her own time to take proceedings.
Lady Norah was with the Marchesa. They both listened attentively andquestioned closely. Not the substantial points alone attracted theirinterest; Stillford was constantly asked--"How did
he look when he saidthat?" He had no other answer than "Oh--well--er--rather queer." He leftthem, having received directions to rebarricade the gate as solidly andas offensively as possible; a board warning off trespassers was also tobe erected.
Although not apt at a description of his interlocutor, yet Stillfordseemed to have conveyed an impression.
"I think he must be delightful," said Norah thoughtfully, when the twoladies were left together. "I'm sure he's just the sort of a man Ishould fall in love with, Helena."
As a rule the Marchesa admired and applauded Norah's candor, praising itfor a certain patrician flavor--Norah spoke her mind, let the crowdthink what it would! On this occasion she was somehow less pleased; shewas even a little startled. She was conscious that any man with whomNorah was gracious enough to fall in love would be subjected to noordinary assault; the Irish coloring is bad to beat, and Norah had it toperfection; moreover, the aforesaid candor makes matters move ahead.
"After all, it's my path he's trespassing on, Norah," the Marchesaremonstrated.
They both began to laugh. "The wretch is as handsome as--as a god,"sighed Helena.
"You've seen him?" eagerly questioned Norah; and the glimpse--thattantalizing glimpse--on Sandy Nab was confessed to.
The Marchesa sprang up, clenching her fist. "Norah, I should like tohave that man at my feet, and then to trample on him! Oh, it's not onlythe path! I believe he's laughing at me all the time!"
"He's never seen you. Perhaps if he did he wouldn't laugh. And perhapsyou wouldn't trample on him either."
"Ah, but I would!" She tossed her head impatiently. "Well, if you wantto meet him. I expect you can do it--on my path to-morrow!"
This talk left the Marchesa vaguely vexed. Her feeling could not becalled jealousy; nothing can hardly be jealous of nothing, and even asher acquaintance with Lynborough amounted to nothing, Lady Norah's alsowas represented by a cipher. But why should Norah want to know him? Itwas the Marchesa's path--by consequence it was the Marchesa's quarrel.Where did Norah stand in the matter? The Marchesa had perhaps beenconstructing a little drama. Norah took leave to introduce a newcharacter!
And not Norah alone, as it appeared at dinner. Little Violet Dufaure,whose appealing ways were notoriously successful with the emotionallyweaker sex, took her seat at table with a demurely triumphant air.Captain Irons reproached her, with polite gallantry, for having desertedthe croquet lawn after tea.
"Oh, I went for a walk to Fillby--through Scarsmoor, you know."
"Through Scarsmoor, Violet?" The Marchesa sounded rather startled again.
"It's a public road, you know, Helena. Isn't it, Mr. Stillford?"
Stillford admitted that it was. "All the same, perhaps the less we gothere at the present moment----"
"Oh, but Lord Lynborough asked me to come again and to go wherever Iliked--not to keep to the stupid road."
Absolute silence reigned. Violet looked round with a smile whichconveyed a general appeal for sympathy; there was, perhaps, specialreference to Miss Gilletson as the guardian of propriety, and to theMarchesa as the owner of the disputed path.
"You see, I took Nellie, and the dear always does run away. She ranafter a rabbit. I ran after her, of course. The rabbit ran into a hole,and I ran into Lord Lynborough. Helena, he's charming!"
"I'm thoroughly tired of Lord Lynborough," said the Marchesa icily.
"He must have known I was staying with you, I think; but he never somuch as mentioned you. He just ignored you--the whole thing, I mean.Wasn't it tactful?"
Tactful it might have been; it did not appear to gratify the Marchesa.
"What a wonderful air there is about a--a _grand seigneio_!" pursuedViolet reflectively. "Such a difference it makes!"
That remark did not gratify any of the gentlemen present; it implied acontrast, although it might not definitely assert one.
"It is such a pity that you've quarreled about that silly path!"
"Oh! oh! Miss Dufaure!"--"I say come, Miss Dufaure!"--"Er--really, MissDufaure!"--these three remonstrances may be distributed indifferentlyamong the three men. They felt that there was a risk of treason in thecamp.
The Marchesa assumed her grandest manner; it was medieval--it wasTitianesque.
"Fortunately, as it seems, Violet, I do not rely on your help tomaintain my fights in regard to the path. Pray meet Lord Lynborough asoften as you please, but spare me any unnecessary mention of his name."
"I didn't mean any harm. It was all Nellie's fault."
The Marchesa's reply--if such it can be called--was delivered _sottovoce_, yet was distinctly audible. It was also brief. She said"_Nellie_!" Nellie was, of course, Miss Dufaure's dog.
Night fell upon an apparently peaceful land. Yet Violet was an absenteefrom the Marchesa's dressing-room that night, and even between Norah andher hostess the conversation showed a tendency to flag. Norah, for allher courage, dared not mention the name of Lynborough, and Helena mostplainly would not. Yet what else was there to talk about? It had come tothat point even so early in the war!
Meanwhile, up at Scarsmoor Castle, Lynborough, in exceedingly highspirits, talked to Leonard Stabb.
"Yes, Cromlech," he said, "a pretty girl, a very pretty girl if you likethat _petite_ insinuating style. For myself I prefer something a shademore--what shall we call it?"
"Don't care a hang," muttered Stabb.
"A trifle more in the grand manner, perhaps, Cromlech. And she hadn'tanything like the complexion. I knew at once that it couldn't be theMarchesa. Do you bathe to-morrow morning?"
"And get my head broken?"
"Just stand still, and let them throw themselves against you, Cromlech.Roger!--Oh, he's gone to bed; stupid thing to do--that! Cromlech, oldchap, I'm enjoying myself immensely."
He just touched his old friend's shoulder as he passed by: the caresswas almost imperceptible. Stabb turned his broad red face round to himand laughed ponderously.
"Oh, and you understand!" cried Lynborough.
"I have never myself objected to a bit of fun with the girls," saidStabb.
Lynborough sank into a chair murmuring delightedly, "You're priceless,Cromlech!"