"You have been to the lodge to ask permission?"
"No," said another hot and perspiring man, "we haven't. It isn't necessary."
"I'm afraid it is," said Esmond quietly. "In fact, there is a board to that effect a few yards back. No doubt you noticed it."
The man laughed. "We did. It isn't there now. We pulled it up."
Esmond flushed a trifle. "Then if you ever wish to get into the Dene I think you made a mistake," he said. "Still, as you can't get any farther to-day, you may as well go back. This gate is locked."
"That don't count," said somebody. "We'll have it off its hinges inside five minutes."
The lad swung round sharply towards the speaker, but Coulthurst laid a restraining hand upon his arm. "Steady!" he said, and raised his voice a trifle. "Now, look here, my men, you certainly can't come in, and you'll only get yourselves into trouble by trying. This is private property."
"Of course!" said one of the strangers. "Everything is. You've got the land, and you've got the water—one can't even bathe in the river now. It's not your fault you can't lay hands on the air and sunshine, too."
There was an approving murmur from his comrades, and Esmond shook off the major's grasp.
"That is rot!" he said. "Willow Dene belongs to me, and you are certainly not coming in. I don't feel inclined to explain my reasons for keeping you out of it, and it's quite probable you wouldn't understand them. Have you brought any responsible person to whom one could talk along with you?"