"No—they'd never dare to touch that!" said Lathrop as he led the way to the path skirting the house. "And if I caught Miss Marvell at it, I'm not sure I shouldn't hand her over myself!"
"Aren't we trespassing?" said Blaydes, as their footsteps rang on the broad flagged path which led from the front court to the terrace at the back of the house.
"Certainly. Ah, the dog's heard us."
And before they had gone more than a few steps further, a burly man appeared at the further corner of the house, holding a muzzled dog—a mastiff—on a leash.
"What might you be wanting, gentlemen?" he said gruffly.
"Why, you know me, Daunt. I brought a friend up to look at your wonderful place. We can walk through, can't we?"
"Well, as you're here, Sir, I'll let you out by the lower gate. But this is private ground, Sir, and Sir Wilfrid's orders are strict,—not to let anybody through that hasn't either business with the house or an order from himself."
"All right. Let's have a look at the back and the terrace, and then we'll be off; Sir Wilfrid coming here?"
"Not that I know of, Sir," said the keeper shortly, striding on before the two men, and quieting his dog, who was growling at their heels.
As he spoke he led the way down a stately flight of stone steps by which the famous eastern terrace at the back of the house was reached. The three men and the dog disappeared from view.