Well, he did see one more thing. This beautiful shape, after a few minutes of what must be presumed to be meditation, raised its arm and shook its fist with decision at Scarsmoor Castle; then it turned and walked straight back to the Grange. There was no sort of possibility of mistaking the nature or the meaning of the gesture. It had the result of stifling Lynborough’s softer mood, of reviving his pugnacity. “She must do more than that, if she’s to win!” said he. CHAPTER VIII THE MARCHESA MOVES After her demonstration against Scarsmoor Castle, the Marchesa went in to lunch. But there were objects of her wrath nearer home also. She received Norah’s salute--they had not met before, that morning--with icy coldness. “I’m better, thank you,” she said, “but you must be feeling tired--having been up so very early in the morning! And you--Violet--have you been over to Scarsmoor again?” Violet had heard from Norah all about the latter’s morning adventure. They exchanged uneasy glances. Yet they were prepared to back one another up. The men looked more frightened; men are frightened when women quarrel. “One of you,” continued the Marchesa accusingly, “pursues Lord Lynborough to his own threshold--the other flirts with him in my own meadow! Rather peculiar signs of friendship for me under the present circumstances--don’t you think so, Colonel Wenman?” The Colonel thought so--though he would have greatly preferred to be at liberty to entertain--or at least to express--no opinion on so thorny a point. “Flirt with him? What do you mean?” But Norah’s protest lacked the ring of honest indignation. “Kissing one’s hand to a mere stranger----” “How do you know that? You were in bed.” “Carlotta saw you from her window. You don’t deny it?” “No, I don’t,” said Norah, perceiving the uselessness of such a course. “In fact, I glory in it. I had a splendid time with Lord Lynborough. Oh, I did try to keep him out for you--but he jumped over my head.” Sensation among the gentlemen! Increased scorn on the Marchesa’s face! “And when I got John Goodenough to help me, he just laid John down on the grass as--as I lay that spoon on the table! He’s splendid, Helena!” “He seems a good sort of chap,” said Irons thoughtfully. The Marchesa looked at Wenman. “Nothing to be said for the fellow, nothing at all,” declared the Colonel hastily. “Thank you, Colonel Wenman. I’m glad I have one friend left anyhow. Oh, besides you, Mr Stillford, of course. Oh, and you, dear old Jennie, of course. You wouldn’t forsake me, would you?”