When I told Mansel, he nodded and said he was glad.
“It’s high time,” said he. “If they hadn’t appeared today, I should have been uneasy. I like the other side to do the obvious thing.”
With that he put up his volume, and, asking me to tell him when the car reached the spot from which we had first seen Wagensburg, rose to his feet and began to pace the courtyard, with his hands behind his back and his head in the air.
Presently the closed car appeared beyond the river, and when I reported this, Mansel called the servants, and I roused Hanbury and told him what was afoot.
Then Mansel spoke to us all.
“We’re going to be visited,” he said, “by five very angry men. I think there’ll be five, and I’m sure they’ll be angry. This is a good place to receive them for several reasons. I think perhaps I’d better play host, but I shall want some support. Mr. Hanbury will take the gateway, and Mr. Chandos the road: Carson will take that window, and Rowley that: and Bell will occupy the loft. Please be ready, but nobody show himself until you hear me say ‘Now.’ And whatever happens, don’t fire. I believe in baring the teeth, but to use them, except to bite back, would be very foolish.”
Then the stable doors were opened, the Rolls was brought out, and out of her we were armed—the servants with sporting rifles, and Mansel, Hanbury and I with a pistol apiece.
The servants had been through the War, and took this quietly enough, but I never was so much excited in all my life, and pictures of blood-lettings and feats of arms rose up before me like so many common rooms of which I had been made free.
Then the car was returned to the stables, and the servants went to their posts, while Mansel showed Hanbury and me how a pistol should be handled, and that the safety-catch was the stile between life and death. After that, Mansel took Tester and shut him up in the house, and, when he came back, we sat down on the wall of the well, by the side of the house, until we should hear the car.
While we were there, Mansel inquired if there was any one line which we thought he should take in dealing with Ellis and his friends, “because,” said he, “beyond recommending them to return to the deuce, I’ve no plan at all. I don’t propose to deny that we’re looking for treasure, and I propose to announce that we’re cleaning the well. If you can’t conceal, advertise: it’s the next best thing. But I’ve little else in my mind, except that this courtyard is as much as they’re going to see.”
Hanbury and I had no suggestion to offer, if for no other reason, because to think at all clearly was beyond our power. This mean state of mind, I am sure, was due to our expectation of what was to come, and, since this failing is one which I have never cured, I have the more reverence for Mansel who, I think, could await the Powers of Darkness themselves without turning a hair.
Presently we heard the drone of a car climbing into the woods, and Hanbury and I passed out of the great gateway and sat down behind the chapel where we could not be seen.
As I afterwards found, the car contained five men, all of whom alighted, three only of whom spoke. These three were Ellis, the man whom I had knocked down, and the other who had answered Mansel at the level-crossing. The last was addressed by his companions as “Rose”—Mansel told us later that he was undoubtedly “Rose” Noble, a man of some position among thieves—and my friend was called “Punter,” though whether that was a nickname I cannot say.
The car came to rest on the terrace, and we heard them alight, but for a moment or two they spoke between themselves, as though they had not seen Mansel, and believed the courtyard empty.
Then:
“Can I help you?” said Mansel.
When Ellis replied, his voice was shaking, and his speech thick with wrath.
“Yes,” he said, “you can. You can pop along off my land. That’ll save me the trouble of putting you out.”
“Oh, are you my landlord?” said Mansel. “Because, if you are, you can help me to clean out your well. It seems to have been used as a cemetery, and I didn’t come here to get typhoid.”
Ellis began to rave, but Rose Noble put him aside.
“What’s this wash about landlords?”
“It’s very simple,” said Mansel, stifling a yawn. “If he owns this estate, he’s my landlord. If he doesn’t, he isn’t. So in any event the question of putting me out will not arise. But I tell you frankly I’m fed up about this well. Supposing—”
“Cut it out,” said Rose Noble. “Ellis here’s got you down. This place was for sale, and he’s bought it.”
“And I hold a fifty years’ lease,” said Mansel. “If he wasn’t told, he should have been. But perhaps they thought if he knew he wouldn’t buy. And now about this well. When I took the place I was given to understand—”
“You’re a great believer in bluff,” said Rose Noble.
“You don’t believe me?” said Mansel. “Well, that’s as you please. But if I’m not here of right, why did they give me the keys?”
There was a moment’s silence.
Then:
“Lease be damned,” roared Ellis. “I’ve bought the
