" he replied. "I don't
know what. But Chatfield, he's sent two men down here to the village. One
of 'em's gone for the police and the doctor, and t'other's gone to the
'Admiral,' looking for you. You're wanted up there--partiklar!"
CHAPTER XI
BENEATH THE BRAMBLES
By the time Copplestone and the pseudo-curate had reached the plateau of
open ground surrounding the ruins it seemed as if half the population of
Scarhaven had gathered there. Men, women and children were swarming about
the door in the curtain wall, all manifesting an eager desire to pass
through. But the door was strictly guarded. Chatfield, armed with a new
oak cudgel stood there, masterful and lowering; behind him were several
estate labourers, all keeping the people back. And within the door stood
Marston Greyle, evidently considerably restless and perturbed, and every
now and then looking out on the mob which the fast-spreading rumour had
called together. In one of these inspections he caught sight of
Copplestone, and spoke to Chatfield, who immediately sent one of his
body-guard through the throng.
"Mr. Greyle says will you go forward, sir?" said the man. "Your friend
can go in too, if he likes."
"That's your clerical garb," whispered Copplestone as he and Gilling made
their way to the door. "But why this sudden politeness?"
"Oh, that's easy to reckon up," answered Gilling.
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