"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."