Once there the girl laughed.
"Now there'll be another row!" she said. "Between master and man
this time."
"I think not!" observed Copplestone, with unusual emphasis. "For the
master is afraid of the man."
"Ah!--but which is master and which is man?" asked Audrey in a low voice.
Copplestone stopped and looked narrowly at her.
"Oh?" he said quietly, "so you've seen that?"
"Does it need much observation?" she replied. "My mother and I have known
for some time that Marston Greyle is entirely under Peter Chatfield's
thumb. He daren't do anything--save by Chatfield's permission."
Copplestone walked on a few yards, ruminating.
"Why!" he asked suddenly.
"How do we know?" retorted Audrey.
"Well, in cases like that," said Copplestone, "it generally means that
one man has a hold on the other. What hold can Chatfield have on your
cousin? I understand Mr. Marston Greyle came straight to his inheritance
from America. So what could Chatfield know of him--to have any hold?"
"Oh, I don't know--and I don't care--much," replied Audrey, as they
passed out of the woods on to the headlands beyond. "Never mind all
that--here's the sea and the open sky--hang Chatfield, and Marston, too!
As we can't see the Keep, let's enjoy ourselves some other way. What
shall we do?"
"You're the guide, conductress, general boss!" answered Copplestone.
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