“You tell me that John Exton and Gridley have been fighting on my lawn. Send them to me immediately. What an outrage!”
Brian withheld comment. Within a minute the offenders appeared looking uncommonly sheepish. Brian ushered them into the presence, and closed the French windows against a grinning and inquisitive crowd. Lady Selina stared coldly at her bailiff. He presented a not too prepossessing appearance, being hatless and breathless, with his tie undone, his hair in disorder and a dash of blood upon his cheek. Hard eyes glared out of a weather-beaten face. Lady Selina hardly recognised her smug, obsequious Grand Vizier. She glanced swiftly at John Exton, the son of Ephraim. The young man bore no marks of the encounter, but he appeared to be still simmering with rage. Gridley was thick-set and slightly corpulent; John Exton was tall and slim. Lady Selina turned to her bailiff.
“What have you to say, Gridley?”
“He struck me first, my lady.”
She addressed the young man, coldly.
“You struck my bailiff on my lawn?”
“On my cheek, my lady.”
Gridley put his hand to his cheek, and discovering blood began to wipe it off with a bandana. John looked at the knuckles of his right hand, grinned, and hid his hand in his pocket. Lady Selina, judicially calm outwardly, continued:
“Kindly tell me, John Exton, why you, my guest this afternoon, struck another guest of mine?”
John fidgeted, blurting out the words: