My father, with the forethoughtfulness which never forsook him, stopped me.

’No, Richie, no; the good woman shall not have the responsibility of letting me in against orders; she may be risking her place, poor soul!  Help me, dear lad.’

He climbed the bars to the spikes, tottering, and communicating a convulsion to me as I assisted him in the leap down:  no common feat for one of his age and weight.

He leaned on me, quaking.

‘Impossible!  Richie, impossible!’ he cried, and reviewed a series of interjections.

It was some time before I discovered that they related to the Will.  He was frenzied, and raved, turning suddenly from red to pale under what I feared were redoubtable symptoms, physical or mental.  He came for sight of the Will; he would contest it, overthrow it.  Harry ruined?  He would see Miss Beltham and fathom the plot;—­angel, he called her, and was absurdly exclamatory, but in dire earnest.  He must have had the appearance of a drunken man to persons observing him from the Grange windows.

My father was refused admission at the hall-doors.

The butler, the brute Sillabin, withstood me impassively.

Whose orders had he?

Miss Ilchester’s.

‘They are afraid of me!’ my father thundered.

I sent a message to Janet.

She was not long in coming, followed by a footman who handed a twist of note-paper from my aunt Dorothy to my father.  He opened it and made believe to read it, muttering all the while of the Will.

Janet dismissed the men-servants.  She was quite colourless.

‘We have been stopped in the doorway,’ I said.

She answered:  ‘I wish it could have been prevented.’

‘You take it on yourself, then?’

She was inaudible.

‘My dear Janet, you call Riversley my home, don’t you?’

‘It is yours.’

‘Do you intend to keep up this hateful feud now my grandfather is dead?’

‘No, Harry, not I.’

’Did you give orders to stop my father from entering the house and grounds?’

‘I did.’

‘You won’t have him here?’

‘Dear Harry, I hoped he would not come just yet.’

‘But you gave the orders?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re rather incomprehensible, my dear Janet.’

‘I wish you could understand me, Harry.’

‘You arm your servants against him!’

‘In a few days—­’ she faltered.

‘You insult him and me now,’ said I, enraged at the half indication of her relenting, which spoiled her look of modestly—­resolute beauty, and seemed to show that she meant to succumb without letting me break her.  ‘You are mistress of the place.’

‘I am.  I wish I were not.’

‘You are mistress of Riversley, and you refuse to let my father come in!’

‘While I am the mistress, yes.’

’Anywhere but here, Harry!  If he will see me or aunty, if he will kindly appoint any other place, we will meet him, we shall be glad.’