"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 does try to use the path to-morrow--'in order to bathe' as he's good enough to 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, of course, raises the question in a concrete form. You will offer a formal resistance. 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'm right!"
"Well, I'm not sure," said Stillford bluntly. "It's impossible to be sure at this stage of the case."
"For all I see, he may use my path to-morrow!" The Marchesa was justifying 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.
"I'll go with these fellows anyhow--and see that they don't overstep the law. No more than the strictly necessary force, Colonel!"
"I begin to think that the law is rather stupid," said the Marchesa. She thought it stupid; Lynborough held it iniquitous; the law was at a discount, and its majesty little reverenced, that night.
Ultimately, however, Stillford persuaded the angry lady to--as he tactfully put it--give Lynborough a chance. "See what he does first. If he crosses the path now, after warning, your case is clear. Write to him again then, and tell him that, if he persists in trespassing, your servants have orders to interfere."
"That lets him bathe to-morrow!" Once more the Marchesa returned to her point--a very sore one.
"Just for once, it really doesn't matter!" Stillford urged.
Reluctantly she acquiesced; the others were rather relieved--not because they objected to a fight, but because eight in the morning was rather early 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 than Lord Lynborough proposed to go.
"He shall have one chance of withdrawing gracefully," the Marchesa finally decided.