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Later Keir discovered that young Scudder was always sneaking down the ladder and hanging outside the kitchen windows. He had further glimpses of young Scudder half in and half out of a ground-floor window, and of young Scudder being repulsed by a short-tempered and elderly cook. The young man reappeared on the roof, smoking a cigarette and looking sly. Keir heard him telling one of the other men that the old cook was jealous because he had been palavering with the girl. Yes, she was a bit of all right, and pretending to be shy, but he—Sydney—knew something about girls. They didn’t stay shy long when you got ’em alone in the dark.

The Darvels gardeners finished work at five, and since overtime was being worked on the new roof, some of Mr. Samson’s men were left on the premises after the gardeners had left. A couple of tarpaulins had to be spread each night in case of rain, and Mr. Samson would come along himself to see that the thing was done, for however clear the sky might be, he was taking no risks with Darvels and the English weather.

Young Scudder, normally shy of overtime, was displaying a peculiar enthusiasm in the matter of late hours. He had discovered that Sybil Kelsey sometimes appeared in the garden after tea to pick flowers, for Mr. Cant was an autocrat and would allow none of the women to touch his beloved borders. Keir was not blind to the lout’s loafing, and in a measure he felt responsible for it, for Mr. Samson had given Keir orders to see everybody off the place.

It was on a Thursday, and the men had left and Keir was putting in a last ten minutes sharpening a saw. He had the saw clasped in the vice of the carpenter’s bench that stood on the terrace, and as he drew the file over the saw’s teeth he was aware of Sybil Kelsey crossing the grass. She did not look in his direction. She disappeared beyond the yew hedge of the rose garden that lay beyond the cedars, and Keir, with a curious little smile, filed away at the saw’s teeth. A pair of blackbirds were feeding their youngsters on the lawn, and it occurred to Keir that a cock blackbird—considered as an artist—might resent the metallic squawkings of a file.

Suddenly he heard a scream. It came from beyond the yew hedge, and Keir’s back straightened. He stood and listened, and then he saw Sybil Kelsey come running from behind the yew hedge. She had two or three roses in one hand and she seemed to clutch them. The tumult of her panic was no rehearsed provocation; she was in flight like a frightened child.

Keir threw the file down on the bench and went quickly across to intercept her.

“Who’s frightened you?”

She was breathless. Her very dark eyes had a kind of blindness. She seemed to hover for a moment in front of him.

“Oh, let me go, please.”

He stood aside.

“It’s all right. What’s frightened you, kid? Tell me.”

He noticed the trembling of her long, sensitive lips. Almost she stammered and was incoherent. A man had sprung out at her. He had been hiding in a recess in the yew hedge where the stone seat stood. Yes, one of the workmen, the young one.

Keir understood.

“Run along, kid. I’ll settle that.”

On the other side of the yew hedge he found young Scudder looking sheepish and lighting a cigarette, and young Scudder glared at Keir with eyes that were like the eyes of an angry dog.

“Hallo. What are you butting in for?”

Keir was very pale.

“You know.”

“—sneak”

It was Keir’s one and only fight before his marriage, and Keir could box. There were no preliminaries. They fell on each other like a couple of dogs. Young Scudder was two stone heavier than Keir, a husky young lout, but he was not so quick on his feet or so coldly furious. Keir got a bloody mouth, but he knocked out young Scudder in the first half minute.

He stood over him.

“Now—you clear. I’ll have you put off this job tomorrow.”

The lout hadn’t the guts for a second assault. He could be noisy and truculent till someone licked him. And Keir, with a splodge of blood on his chin, and a face that was still dead white, shepherded Scudder across the lawn and round to the back of the house and saw him out by the door of the little courtyard into the lane.

It was then that he discovered three women in the kitchen doorway, the cook, the housemaid, and Sybil. The cook had her arm round Sybil. And Keir was annoyed. He was aware of his bleeding lip.

“That’s all right. I’ve—settled him. Sorry it happened.”

All three of them appeared interested in Keir’s bleeding lip. The cook wanted to bathe it for him.

“Young blackguard—You ought to have that seen to.”

Keir shrugged off this sympathy. Young Scudder had a worse lip, and an eye that would close before nightfall.

“Nothing to fuss about. Thanks all the same.”

He was aware of Sybil Kelsey still holding those roses and looking at him with large eyes from the half shadow of the doorway. She seemed to have shrunk back behind the others.

And suddenly she smiled at him, and her face had for him a swift fragrance. Her lips trembled, but no word passed from her to Keir.