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?"
The languid insolence in his even tone had an effect which a flood of
invective might have failed to produce; and once more there was a murmur
from the crowd, while a man with a grim, dust-smeared face held up a
bludgeon.
"We've brought these, and they're good enough," he said.
Then the men moved a little, and there were cries of "Let him have a
chance!" as a young man pushed his way through them. He was plainly and
neatly dressed and carried nothing in his hand.
"I'm sorry our Committee is not here to lay our views before you, Mr.
Esmond, which was what we had intended; but if you will try to look at
the thing sensibly it will save everybody trouble," he said.
"What has become of the worthy gentlemen? Weren't they capable of
walking from the 'Griffin'?" asked Esmond drily. "It really isn't very
far."
The young man did not appear to notice the jibe. "The fact is, we had a
little dispute among ourselves," he said. "The views of the Committee
didn't quite coincide with those of the rest, but since the Committee is
not here I should like to point out that the Hoddam people have passed
through the Dene without hindrance for at least twenty years, and as
that gives them a legal right of way they mean to continue doing it.
Now, if you will make no opposition we will promise that no damage
whatever will be done to your property."
"Don't you worry about the concerned Committee," said a voice from the
crowd. "It's got the sulks. Only two turned out. We're going by what Mr.
Leger says."
Esmond glanced at the man in front of him, with a little sardonic smile.
"I have only your assurance, and I'm afraid it would scarcely be wise to
place more confidence in your friends than their leaders seem to have
done. Their appearance is, unfortunately, against them."
There were cries of "Stop it, Leger; you're wasting time! Tell him to
get out of the way! We're coming in!"
The young man raised his hand. "I believe they mean it, Mr. Esmond. Now,
there are two sensible courses open to you. Unlock that gate and make no
further opposition; or stand aside while we lift it off its hinges, and
then proceed against us for trespassing. You will, if you are wise, make
no attempt to prevent our getting in."
There was a moment's silence, and the little knot of men behind the gate
and the crowd outside watched each other's faces. One or two were
evidently uneasy, others a trifle grim, but there was a portentous
murmur from the dusty rabble farther back in the shadow. Then young
Esmond laughed in an unpleasant fashion as he drew the lash of his
dog-whip suggestively through his hand.
"Whoever lays a hand upon this gate will take the consequences," he
said.
Coulthurst touched his shoulder, and said something in his ear, but the
young man moved away from him impatiently.
"Am I to be dictated to by this rabble? Let them come!" he said.
The major made a little gesture of resignation. "Well," he said, "if you
are determined to make trouble I think you will get your wish."
Then the front of the crowd split up, and several men came out from it
carrying between them what appeared to be the post to which the
notice-board had been nailed. They came on at a ran, and, disregarding
the major's warning, swung it like a battering ram. Next moment there
was a crash. The gate rattled, but still held fast, while the lash of
Esmond's dog-whip curled round one man's hand. He loosed his hold upon
the post with a howl, his comrades recoiled, and there was an angry cry
from the rear of the crowd, while a sod alighted squarely in the major's
face. He wiped it quietly with his handkerchief, and then seizing Esmond
by main force thrust him a few paces aside.
"Go home, my men, and you have my word that the affair shall go no
further," he said. "It's your last chance. We'll have a magistrate and
several policemen here in a very few minutes."
"Look out for yourself," said somebody. "We've nothing against you. Now,
pick up your post, boys, and down with the thing!"
The men with the post came on again; there was a roar from the crowd,
and a crash, as the gate swung open; then as a man with a stick sprang
through the gap Esmond's dog-whip came down upon his face. Next moment
somebody had hurled him backwards, and the crowd rolled through the
opening.
"Back there! Look after your master, Jenkins!" the major's voice rang
out, and a man dropped suddenly beneath his riding-crop.
Then nobody knew exactly what happened, but while the sticks rose and
fell Ingleby and Esmond, who had evaded the burly keeper, found
themselves face to face. Esmond, who was flushed and gasping, swung the
dog-whip round his head, but before he struck, Leger sprang straight at
him with empty hands. Then a stick that somebody swung came down, and
Esmond fell just clear of the rest, with a gash on his forehead from
which there spread a crimson smear. Leger staggered forward, and the
major gripped his shoulder and flung him into the arms of a keeper.
"Hold him fast! That's the lad who did it," he said, and faced round on
the crowd with hand swung up and voice ringing commandingly.
"You have already done as much as you will care to account for," he
said. "Manslaughter is a somewhat serious thing."
The tumult ceased for a moment, and everybody saw Esmond lying very
still upon the turf with the ominous smear of crimson on his blanched
face. His eyes were half closed now, and they had an unpleasantly
suggestive appearance. Then Ingleby stepped forward and turned to
Coulthurst.
"Nobody will interfere with you while you take him away, but the man you
have was not the one who struck him down," he said. "Give him up, and
we'll go back quietly."
The Major smiled grimly. "I hope," he said, "to hand him to the police
inside five minutes."
"Look here," said somebody, "it was all Mr. Esmond's own fault, and, so
to speak, an accident. Go and get a doctor for him, and let us have our
man."
There was a little hard glitter in Coulthurst's eyes. "He will find it
difficult to persuade a jury of that. Stick to the lad, Jenkins, and
pick Mr. Esmond up, two of you. Stand aside there, and it's possible
that we will not proceed against any more of you."
Ingleby turned to the crowd. "You're not going to let them hand him to
the police for a thing he didn't do?"
There was a rush and a scuffle, the major's riding-crop was torn from
him, and groom and gardener and keeper were swept away, while Ingleby,
laughing harshly, reeled into the shadow of the trees with his hand on
Leger's shoulder.
"I think," he said, "there's nothing that need keep us here."
Then, while some of his companions pursued Esmond's retainers, and the
rest stood still, uncertain what to do next, Ingleby started back
through the woods towards Hoddam, dragging Leger, who seemed a trifle
dazed.