So David rode off, up the broad slopes of the great park, along the wonderful beech avenue and out on to the highway. He turned in his saddle for a moment and looked towards the road from London. CHAPTER XXIV The Marquis, with an after-breakfast cigarette in his mouth, strolled out of his front door, a few mornings later, to find himself face to face with Richard Vont. He called Letitia, who was behind. "The worst has happened," he groaned. Letitia stood by her father's side and looked across the stone flags, across the avenue, with its central bed of gay-coloured flowers, the ring fence, the moat, the few yards of park, to where, just inside his little enclosed garden, Richard Vont was seated, directly facing them. "Well, you expected it, didn't you, father?" she observed. "All the same," the Marquis declared, with a frown, "it's an irritating thing to have a man seated there within a hundred yards of your front door, with a Bible on his knee, cursing you. I am convinced now, more than ever, that my case against this man must have been grossly mismanaged. The law could never permit such an indignity." Letitia stepped back for a moment to light a cigarette. Then she rejoined her father and contemplated that somewhat grim figure critically. "If he is going to do that all the time," the Marquis went on, "I shall have nerves. I shall have to live in the back part of the house." Letitia gravely considered the matter. "Why don't you try talking common sense to him?" she suggested. "Perhaps a few words from you would make all the difference." "He is probably sitting there with a gun," her father sighed. "However, it's an idea, Letitia. I'll try it." He strolled across the avenue, through a little iron gate in the railings, and across the moat by a footbridge. When he had approached within a dozen paces of the palings, however, Richard Vont rose to his feet. "You're nigh enough, Lord Mandeleys," he called out, "nigh enough for your own safety." The Marquis advanced with his usual leisurely and aristocratic walk to the edge of the palings. Richard Vont stood glaring at him like a wild beast, but there was no signs of any weapon about. "Vont," the former said, "we both have rights. This park is mine so far as your paling, just as your garden is yours where you are. I have no fancy for shouting, and I have a word to say to you." "Say it and begone, then," Vont exclaimed fiercely. "Really," the Marquis expostulated, "you are behaving in a most unreasonable manner. I am here to discuss the past. For any wrong which you may consider I have done you, I express my regret. I suggest to you that your daughter's present position in life should reconcile you to what has happened." "My daughter's brains nor your money don't make an honest woman of her." The Marquis sighed wearily.