"I don't think it much matters whether my cousin knows or not," she said. "He's the nominal Squire of Scarhaven, but everybody knows that the real over-lord is Peter Chatfield. Peter Chatfield does--everything. And--he hates me! He won't have had such a pleasant moment for a long time as he had this morning when he took my key away from me and warned me off." "But why you?" asked Copplestone. "Oh--Peter is deep!" she said. "Peter, no doubt, knew that you came to see us last night--Peter knows all that goes on in Scarhaven. And he put things together, and decided that I might act as your cicerone over the Keep and the ruins, and so--there you are!" "Why should he object to my visiting the Keep?" demanded Copplestone. "That's obvious! He considers you a spy," replied Audrey. "And--there may be reasons why he doesn't desire your presence in those ancient regions. But--we'll go there, all the same, if you don't mind breaking rules and defying Peter." "Not I!" said Copplestone. "Hang Peter!" "There are people who firmly believe that Peter Chatfield should have been hanged long since," she remarked quietly. "I'm one of them. Chatfield is a bad old man--thoroughly bad! But I'll circumvent him in this, anyhow. I know how to get into the Keep in spite of him and of his locks and bolts. There's a big curtain wall, twenty feet high, all round the Keep, but I know where there's a hole in it, behind some bushes, and we'll get in there. Come along!" She led him up the same path through the woods along which Bassett Oliver had gone, according to Ewbank's account. It wound through groves of fir and pine until it came out on a plateau, in the midst of which, surrounded by a high irregular wall, towered at the angles and buttressed all along its length, stood Scarhaven Keep. And there, at the head of a path which evidently led up from the big house, stood Chatfield, angry and threatening. Beyond him, distributed at intervals about the other paths which converged on the plateau were other men, obviously estate labourers, who appeared to be mounting guard over the forbidden spot. "Now there's going to be a row!--between me and Chatfield," murmured Audrey. "You play spectator--don't say a word. Leave it to me. We are on our rights along this path--take no notice of Peter." But Chatfield was already bearing down on them, his solemn-featured face dark with displeasure. He raised his voice while he was yet a dozen yards away. "I thought I'd told you as you wasn't to come near these here ruins!" he said, addressing Audrey in a fashion which made Copplestone's fingers itch to snatch the oak staff from the agent and lay it freely about his person. "My orders was to that there effect! And when I give orders I mean 'em to be obeyed. You'll turn straight back where you came from, miss, and in future do as I instruct--d'ye hear that, now?"