"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 foot-path, 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 him much. The Squire was mortally afraid of his
man. That was certain--as certain as that they were there. He stood, a
picture of vexation and indecision, glancing furtively at Chatfield, then
at Audrey, and evidently hating to be asked to take a side.
"Confound it all, Chatfield!" he suddenly burst out. "Why don't you mind
what you're saying? It's all very well, Audrey, but you shouldn't have
come along here--especially with strangers. The fact is, I'm so upset
about this Oliver affair that I'm going to have a thorough search and
examination of the Keep and the ruins, and, of course, we can't allow any
one inside the grounds while it's going on.
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