“It seems such a funny coincidence.”
“Supposing it to be a mere coincidence—no doubt! But I’ve always known that I had to meet that complexion somewhere. If here—so much the better!”
“I have a great doubt about that,” said Leonard Stabb.
“I can get it over, Cromlech! At least consider that.”
“But you’re not going to know her!” laughed Wilbraham.
“I shall probably see her as we walk down to bathe by Beach Path.”
A deferential voice spoke from behind his chair. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but Beach Path is closed.” Coltson had brought Lynborough his cigar-case and laid it down on a table by him as he communicated this intelligence.
“Closed, Coltson?”
“Yes, my lord. There’s a padlock on the gate, and a—er—barricade of furze. And the gardeners tell me they were warned off yesterday.”
“My gardeners warned off Beach Path?”