_Chapter Four_
THE MESSAGE OF A PADLOCK
Lord Lynborough presents his compliments to her Excellency the Marchesa di San Servolo. Lord Lynborough has learnt, with surprise and regret, that his servants have within the last two days been warned off Beach Path, and that a padlock and other obstacles have been placed on the gate leading to the path, by her Excellency's orders. Lord Lynborough and his predecessors have enjoyed the use of this path by themselves, their agents and servants, for many years back--certainly for fifty, as Lord Lynborough knows from his father and from old servants, and Lord Lynborough is not disposed to acquiesce in any obstruction being raised to his continued use of it. He must therefore request her Excellency to have the kindness to order that the padlock and other obstacles shall be removed, and he will be obliged by this being done before eight o'clock to-morrow morning--at which time Lord Lynborough intends to proceed by Beach Path to the sea in order to bathe. Scarsmoor Castle; 13th June.
The reception of this letter proved an agreeable incident of anotherwise rather dull Sunday evening at Nab Grange. The Marchesa hadbeen bored; the Colonel was sulky. Miss Gilletson had forbidden cards;her conscience would not allow herself, nor her feelings of envy permitother people, to play on the Sabbath. Lady Norah and Violet Dufaure weresomewhat at cross-purposes, each preferring to talk to Stillford andendeavoring, under a false show of amity, to foist Captain Irons on tothe other.
"Listen to this!" cried the Marchesa vivaciously. She read it out. "Hedoesn't beat about the bush, does he? I'm to surrender before eighto'clock to-morrow morning!"
"Sounds rather a peremptory sort of a chap!" observed Colonel Wenman.
"I," remarked Lady Norah, "shouldn't so much as answer him, Helena."
"I shall certainly answer him and tell him that he'll trespass on myproperty at his peril," said the Marchesa haughtily. "Isn't that theright way to put it, Mr. Stillford?"
"If it would be a trespass, that might be one way to put it," wasStillford's professionally cautious advice. "But as I ventured to tellyou when you determined to put on the padlock, the rights in the matterare not quite as clear as we could wish."
"When I bought this place, I bought a private estate--a private estate,Mr. Stillford--for myself--not a short cut for Lord Lynborough! Am I toput up a notice for him, 'This Way to the Bathing-Machines'?"
"I wouldn't stand it for a moment." Captain Irons sounded bellicose.
Violet Dufaure was amicably inclined.
"You might give him leave to walk through. It would be a bore for him togo round by the road every time."
"Certainly I might give him leave if he asked for it," retorted theMarchesa rather sharply. "But he doesn't. He orders me to open mygate--and tells me he means to bathe! As if I cared whether he bathed ornot! What is it to me, I ask you, Violet, whether the man bathes ornot?"
"I beg your pardon, Marchesa, but aren't you getting a little off thepoint?" Stillford intervened deferentially.
"No, I'm not. I never get off the point, Mr. Stillford. Do I, ColonelWenman?"
"I've never known you to do it in my life, Marchesa." There was, infact, as Lynborough had ventured to anticipate, a flush on theMarchesa's cheek, and the Colonel knew his place.
"There, Mr. Stillford!" she cried triumphantly. Then she swept--theexpression is really applicable--across the room to her writing-table."I shall be courteous, but quite decisive," she announced over hershoulder as she sat down.
Stillford stood by the fire, smiling doubtfully. Evidently it was no usetrying to stop the Marchesa; she had insisted on locking the gate, andshe would persist in keeping it locked till she was forced, by processof law or otherwise, to open it again. But if the Lords of ScarsmoorCastle really had used it without interruption for fifty years (as LordLynborough asserted)--well, the Marchesa's rights were at least in aprecarious position.
The Marchesa came back with her letter in her hand.
"'The Marchesa di San Servolo,'" she read out to an admiring audience,"'presents her compliments to Lord Lynborough. The Marchesa has nointention of removing the padlock and other obstacles which have beenplaced on the gate to prevent trespassing--either by Lord Lynborough orby anybody else. The Marchesa is not concerned to know Lord Lynborough'splans in regard to bathing or otherwise. Nab Grange; 13th June.'"
The Marchesa looked round on her friends with a satisfied air.
"I call that good," she remarked. "Don't you, Norah?"
"I don't like the last sentence."
"Oh yes! Why, that'll make him angrier than anything else! Please ringthe bell for me, Mr. Stillford; it's just behind you."
The butler came back.
"Who brought Lord Lynborough's letter?" asked the Marchesa.
"I don't know who it is, your Excellency--one of the upper servants atthe Castle, I think."
"How did he come to the house?"
"By the drive--from the south gate--I believe, your Excellency."
"I'm glad of that," she declared, looking positively dangerous. "Tellhim to go back the same way, and not by the--by what Lord Lynboroughchooses to call 'Beach Path.' Here's a letter for him to take."
"Very good, your Excellency." The butler received the letter andwithdrew.
"Yes," said Lady Norah, "rather funny he should call it Beach Path,isn't it?"
"I don't know whether it's funny or not, Norah, but I do know that Idon't care what he calls it. He may call it Piccadilly if he likes, butit's my path all the same." As she spoke she looked, somewhat defiantly,at Mr. Stillford.
Violet Dufaure, whose delicate frame held an indomitable and indeedpugnacious spirit, appealed to Stillford; "Can't Helena have him takenup if he trespasses?"
"Well, hardly, Miss Dufaure. The remedy would lie in the civil courts."
"Shall I bring an action against him? Is that it? Is that right?" criedthe Marchesa.
"That's the ticket, eh, Stillford?" asked the Colonel.
Stillford's position was difficult; he had the greatest doubt about hisclient's case.
"Suppose you leave him to bring the action?" he suggested. "When hedoes, we can fully consider our position."
"But if he insists on using the path to-morrow?"
"He'll hardly do that," Stillford persuaded her. "You'll probably get aletter from him, asking for the name of your solicitor. You will givehim my name; I shall obtain the name of his solicitor, and we shallsettle it between us--amicably, I hope, but in any case without furtherpersonal trouble to you, Marchesa."
"Oh!" said the Marchesa blankly. "That's how it will be, will it?"
"That's the usual course--the proper way of doing the thing."
"It may be proper; it sounds very dull, Mr. Stillford. What if he doestry to use the path to-morrow--'in order to bathe' as he's good enoughto tell me?"
"If you're right about the path, then you've the right to stop him,"Stillford answered rather reluctantly. "If you do stop him, that, ofcourse, raises the question in a concrete form. You will offer a formalresistance. He will make a formal protest. Then the lawyers step in."
"We always end with the lawyers--and my lawyer doesn't seem sure I'mright!"
"Well, I'm not sure," said Stillford bluntly. "It's impossible to besure at this stage of the case."
"For all I see, he may use my path to-morrow!" The Marchesa wasjustifying her boast that she could stick to a point.
"Now that you've lodged your objection, that won't matter much legally."
"It will annoy me intensely," the Marchesa complained.
"Then we'll stop him," declared Colonel Wenman valorously.
"Politely--but firmly," added Captain Irons.
"And what do you say, Mr. Stillford?"
"I'll go with these fellows anyhow--and see that they don't overstep thelaw. No more than the strictly necessary force, Colonel!"
"I begin to think that the law is rather stupid," said the Marchesa. Shethought it stupid; Lynborough he
ld it iniquitous; the law was at adiscount, and its majesty little reverenced, that night.
Ultimately, however, Stillford persuaded the angry lady to--as hetactfully put it--give Lynborough a chance. "See what he does first. Ifhe crosses the path now, after warning, your case is clear. Write to himagain then, and tell him that, if he persists in trespassing, yourservants have orders to interfere."
"That lets him bathe to-morrow!" Once more the Marchesa returned to herpoint--a very sore one.
"Just for once, it really doesn't matter!" Stillford urged.
Reluctantly she acquiesced; the others were rather relieved--not becausethey objected to a fight, but because eight in the morning was ratherearly to start one. Breakfast at the Grange was at nine-thirty, and,though the men generally went down for a dip, they went much later thanLord Lynborough proposed to go.
"He shall have one chance of withdrawing gracefully," the Marchesafinally decided.
Stillford was unfeignedly glad to hear her say so; he had, from aprofessional point of view, no desire for a conflict. Inquiries which hehad made in Fillby--both from men in Scarsmoor Castle employ and fromindependent persons--had convinced him that Lynborough's case wasstrong. For many years--through the time of two Lynboroughs before thepresent at Scarsmoor, and through the time of three Crosses (thepredecessors of the Marchesa) at Nab Grange, Scarsmoor Castle hadwithout doubt asserted this dominant right over Nab Grange. It had beenclaimed and exercised openly--and, so far as he could discover, withoutprotest or opposition. The period, as he reckoned it, would prove to belong enough to satisfy the law as to prescription; it was very unlikelythat any document existed--or anyhow could be found--which would serveto explain away the presumption which uses such as this gave. In fine,the Marchesa's legal adviser was of opinion that in a legal fight theMarchesa would be beaten. His own hope lay in compromise; if friendlyrelations could be established, there would be a chance of acompromise. He was sure that the Marchesa would readily grant as afavor--and would possibly give in return for a nominal payment--all thatLynborough asked. That would be the best way out of the difficulty. "Letus temporize, and be conciliatory," thought the man of law.
Alas, neither conciliation nor dilatoriness was in Lord Lynborough'sline! He read the Marchesa's letter with appreciation and pleasure. Headmired the curtness of its intimation, and the lofty haughtiness withwhich the writer dismissed the subject of his bathing. But he treatedthe document--it cannot be said that he did wrong--as a plain defiance.It appeared to him that no further declaration of war was necessary; hewas not concerned to consider evidence nor to weigh his case, asStillford wanted to weigh her case. This for two reasons: first,because he was entirely sure that he was right; secondly because he hadno intention of bringing the question to trial. Lynborough knew but onetribunal; he had pointed out its local habitation to Roger Wilbraham.
Accordingly it fell out that conciliatory counsels and Fabian tactics atNab Grange received a very severe--perhaps indeed a fatal--shock thenext morning.
At about nine o'clock the Marchesa was sitting in her dressing-gown bythe open window, reading her correspondence and sipping an early cup oftea--she had become quite English in her habits. Her maid reentered theroom, carrying in her hand a small parcel. "For your Excellency," shesaid. "A man has just left it at the door." She put the parcel down onthe marble top of the dressing-table.
"What is it?" asked the Marchesa indolently.
"I don't know, your Excellency. It's hard, and very heavy for its size."
Laying down the letter which she had been perusing, the Marchesa took upthe parcel and cut the string which bound it. With a metallic clinkthere fell on her dressing-table--a padlock! To it was fastened a pieceof paper, bearing these words: "Padlock found attached to gate leadingto Beach Path. Detached by order of Lord Lynborough. With LordLynborough's compliments."
Now, too, Lynborough might have got his flush--if he could have beenthere to see it!
"Bring me my field-glasses!" she cried.
The window commanded a view of the gardens, of the meadows beyond thesunk fence, of the path--Beach Path as that man was pleased to callit!--and of the gate. At the last-named object the enraged Marchesadirected her gaze. The barricade of furze branches was gone! The gatehung open upon its hinges!
While she still looked, three figures came across the lens. A very largestout shape--a short spare form--a tall, lithe, very lean figure. Theywere just reaching the gate, coming from the direction of the sea. Thetwo first were strangers to her; the third she had seen for a moment theafternoon before on Sandy Nab. It was Lynborough himself, beyond adoubt. The others must be friends--she cared not about them. But to sithere with the padlock before her, and see Lynborough pass through thegate--a meeker woman than she had surely been moved to wrath! He hadbathed--as he had said he would. And he had sent her the padlock. Thatwas what came of listening to conciliatory counsels, of letting herselfgive ear to dilatory persuasions!
"War!" declared the Marchesa. "War--war--war! And if he's not careful, Iwon't confine it to the path either!" She seemed to dream of conquests,perhaps to reckon resources, whereof Mr. Stillford, her legal adviser,had taken no account.
She carried the padlock down to breakfast with her; it was to her as aFiery Cross; it summoned her and her array to battle. She exhibited itto her guests.
"Now, gentlemen, I'm in your hands!" said she. "Is that man to walk overmy property for his miserable bathing to-morrow?"
He would have been a bold man who, at that moment, would have answeredher with a "Yes."