“Where you came from last, my lord.” “No, no, Goodenough. At all events, her Excellency has no right to drive me into the sea.” Lynborough’s tone was plaintively expostulatory. “Then if you won’t go back, my lord, here we stay!” said John, bewildered but faithfully obstinate. “Just your tactics!” Lynborough observed to Norah, a keen spectator of the scene. “But I’m not so patient of them from Goodenough.” “I don’t know that you were very patient with me.” “Goodenough, if you use sufficient force I shall, of course, be prevented from continuing on my way. Nothing short of that, however, will stop me. And pray take care that the force is sufficient--neither more nor less than sufficient, Goodenough.” “I don’t want to use no violence to your lordship. Well, now, if I lay my hand on your lordship’s shoulder, will that do to satisfy your lordship?” “I don’t know until you try it.” John’s face brightened. “I reckon that’s the way out. I reckon that’s law, my lord. I puts my hand on your lordship’s shoulder like that----” He suited the action to the word. In an instant Lynborough’s long lithe arms were round him, Lynborough’s supple lean leg twisted about his. Gently, as though he had been a little baby, Lynborough laid the sturdy fellow on the grass. For all she could do, Norah Mountliffey cried “Bravo!” and clapped her hands. Goodenough sat up, scratched his head, and laughed feebly. “Force not quite sufficient, Goodenough,” cried Lynborough gaily. “Now I repass!” He lifted his hat to Norah, then waved his hand. In her open impulsive way she kissed hers back to him as he turned away. By one of those accidents peculiar to tragedy, the Marchesa’s maid, performing her toilet at an upper window, saw this nefarious and traitorous deed! “Swimming--jumping--wrestling! A good morning’s exercise! And all before those lazy chaps, Roger and Cromlech, are out of bed!” So saying, Lord Lynborough vaulted the wall again in high good humour. CHAPTER VII ANOTHER WEDGE! Deprived of their leader’s inspiration, the other two representatives of Scarsmoor did not brave the Passage Perilous to the sea that morning. Lynborough was well content to forgo further aggression for the moment. His words declared his satisfaction-- “I have driven a wedge--another wedge--into the Marchesa’s phalanx. Yes, I think I may say a second wedge. Disaffection has made its entry into Nab Grange, Cromlech. The process of isolation has begun. Perhaps after lunch we will resume operations.” But fortune was to give him an opportunity even before lunch. It appeared that Stabb had sniffed out the existence of two old brasses in Fillby Church; he was determined to inspect them at the earliest possible moment. Lynborough courteously offered to accompany him, and they set out together about eleven o’clock.