The partners walked home together across the park, which was not of large extent and held no deer. Henry Chandos had put down the deer. Sheep browsed placidly upon the rich grasses. Bordering the park was a shrubbery of rhododendrons, and through this meandered a path which ended at a fine wrought-iron gate opening upon the village green. As they passed through the rhododendrons, Grimshaw noticed that they had reverted to type—the familiar Ponticum.

“Lady Selina has let things rip,” he remarked.

“There isn’t too much money, as perhaps you have guessed.”

“But she told us that the estate was clear of debt.”

“To keep it so is her mission in life. Well, what did you think of her?”

“Wonderful! There is no other adjective. I can understand that there has been a conspiracy of silence to ‘spare’ her. Forgive me for saying that I am sure you are the chief conspirator.”

“I admit it. Goodrich has a second place. To disturb her admirable peace of mind seemed to us—sacrilege. You upset her, but she cottoned to you.”

“I rattled her,” said Grimshaw. “What the effect will be I can’t predict. Obviously, I’m in for a fight. And the odds are against me, because her son is devoted to her. I am sure that in his place I should feel as he does. But Miss Chandos——!”

“All women are unknown quantities.”

“To old bachelors.”

Pawley rubbed his bony fingers together.

“To all of us and to themselves. I make no prognosis about Cicely. The mother can be diagnosed with greater confidence. Henry Chandos ran this place prehistorically. Lady Selina strolls placidly in his ruts. If I can read the barometer, now apparently at ‘Set Stormy,’ we are likely to witness confounding changes.”

“Here?”

“Everywhere. A universal upheaval.”

“But—good heavens!—you don’t think war is coming?”

“I am quite sure of it. A fight between Democracy and Autocracy.”

“England will keep out of it.”

“She can’t.”

They argued without acerbity, as thousands argued during those early days of July, 1914. But it never occurred to either that war, if it did come, would affect them personally. Soldiers and sailors would do their duty; civilians would carry on much as usual. No modern war could last very long. Finally, as they neared home, Grimshaw said with a laugh:

“Whatever happens, I can’t see your Autocrat ‘downed.’”

“It would be a pathetic spectacle,” observed Pawley. “I have the kindliest feelings toward her, but I detest her system.”

“You blame Gridley.”

“Ah! He’s the source of most of the mischief. And she doesn’t know it. I hope with all my heart that you will ‘down’ him.”

“He may ‘down’ me,” said Grimshaw, thinking of Essex experiences, where his poorer patients had been grievously maltreated by just such another.

“I back you, my boy.” Pawley pressed a strong arm reassuringly.