“Huh? You the guy who thinks he owns this?” he asked aggressively.
“My brother is the present master of Pirate’s Haven—”
“That’s what he thinks,” replied the rival with a relish. “Well, he isn’t. That is, not until he pays me for my half. And if he wants to get tough, I’ll take it all,” he ended, and withdrew into the car like a lizard into its rock den.
Val sat by the side of the road and watched the car slide along toward the plantation. As it passed him he caught a glimpse of a second passenger in the back seat. It was the red-faced man he had seen with LeFleur’s clerk on the street in New Orleans. Resolutely Val turned back and started for the house in the wake of the rival.
By making use of a short-cut, he reached the front of the house almost as soon as the car. Ricky had been working with the morning-glory vines about the terrace steps, young Sam standing attendance with a rusty trowel and one of the kitchen forks.
At the sound of the car she stood up and tried to brush a smear of sticky earth from the front of her checked-gingham dress. When the rival got out she smiled at him.
“Hello, sister,” he smirked.
She stood still for a moment and her smile faded. When she answered, her voice was chill. “You wished to see Mr. Ralestone?” she asked distantly.
“Sure. But not just yet, sister. You better be pleasant, you know. I’m the new owner here—”
Val rode out of the bushes and swung out of the saddle, coming up behind him. Although the boy was one of the smaller “Black” Ralestones, he topped the invader by a good two inches, and he noted this with delight as he came up to him.
“Ricky,” he said briefly, “go in. And send Sam for Rupert.”
She nodded and was gone. The man turned to face Val. “You again, huh?” he demanded.
“Yes. And Ralestone or no Ralestone, I would advise you to keep a civil tongue in your head,” he began hotly, when Rupert appeared at the door.
“Well, Val,” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead, “what is it?”
The rival advanced a short step and looked up. “So this is the guy who’s trying to do me out of my rights?”
Rupert reached behind him and closed the screen before coming to the head of the terrace steps. “I presume that you are Mr. Ralestone?” he asked quietly.
“‘Course I’m Ralestone,” asserted the other. “And I’m part owner of this place.”
“That has not yet been decided,” answered Rupert calmly. “But suppose you tell me to what we owe the honor of this visit?”
Now, however, the passenger took a hand in the game. He crawled out of the car, taking off his soiled panama to wipe his bald head with a gaudy silk handkerchief.
“Here, here, Mr. Ralestone,” he addressed his companion, “let us have no unpleasantness. We have merely come here today, sir,” he explained to Rupert, “to see if matters could not be settled amicably without having to take recourse to a court of law. Your Mr. LeFleur will give us very little satisfaction, you see. I am a plain and honest man, sir, and I believe an affair of this kind may be best agreed upon between principals. My client, Mr. Ralestone, is a reasonable man; he will be moderate in his demands. It will be to your advantage to listen to our proposal. After all, you cannot contest his rights—”
“But that is just what I am going to do.” Rupert smiled down at them, if a slight twist of the lips may be called a smile. “Have you ever heard that old saying that ‘possession is nine points of the law’? I am the Ralestone in residence, and I shall continue to be the Ralestone in residence until after this case is heard. Now, as I am a busy man and this is the middle of the morning, I shall have to say good-bye—”
“So that’s the way you’re going to take it?” The visiting Ralestone glared at Rupert. “All right. Play it that way and you won’t be here a month from now. Nor,” he turned on Val, “this kid brother of yours, either. You can’t pull this lord-of-the-land stuff on me and get away with it. I’ll—” But he did not finish his threat. Instead, his jaws clamped shut on mid-word. In silence he turned and got into the car to which his counselor had already withdrawn.
The car leaped forward into a rose bush. With a savage twist of the wheel the driver brought it back to the drive, leaving deep prints in the front lawn. Then it was gone, down the drive, as they stood staring after it.
“So that’s that,” Val commented. “Well, all I’ve got to say is that Rick’s branch of the family has sadly gone to seed—”
“Being a southern gentleman has made you slightly snobbish.” Ricky came out from her lurking place behind the door.
“Snobbish!” her brother choked at the injustice. “I suppose that that is your idea of a perfect gentleman, a diamond in the rough—”
He pointed down the drive.
Ricky laughed. “It’s so easy to tease you, Val. Of course he is a—a wart of the first class. But Rupert will fix him—won’t you?”
Her older brother grinned. “After that example of your trust in me, I’ll have to. I agree, he is not the sort you would care to introduce to your more particular friends. But this visit seems to suggest something—”
“That he has the wind up?” Val asked.
“There are indications of that, I think. Something LeFleur has done has stirred our friends into direct action. We shall probably have more of it within the immediate future. So I want you, Ricky, to go to town. Madame LeFleur has very kindly offered to put you up—”
Each tiny curl on Ricky’s head seemed to bristle with indignation. “Oh, no you don’t, Rupert Ralestone! You don’t get me away from here when there are exciting things going on. I hardly think that our friend with the slimy manner will use machine-guns to blast us out. And if he does—well, it wouldn’t be the first time that this house was used as a fortress. I’m not going one step out of here unless you two come with me.”
Rupert shrugged. “As I can’t very well hog-tie you to get you to town, I suppose you will have to stay. But I am going to send for Lucy.” With that parting shot he turned and went in.
Lucy arrived shortly before noon. She was accompanied by a portion of her large family—four, Val counted, including that Sam who had become Ricky’s faithful shadow.
“What’s all dis Ah heah ‘bout some mans sayin’ he am de Ralestone?” she demanded of Ricky. “De policemans oughta lock him up. Effen he comes botherin’ ‘roun’ heah agin I’ll ten’ to him!”
With that she marched majestically into the kitchen, elbowed Letty-Lou out of her way, and proceeded to stir up a batch of brown molasses cookies. “‘Cause dey is fillin’ fo’ boys. An’ Mistuh Val, heah, he needs some moah fat ‘crost dose skinny ribs. Letty-Lou, yo’all ain’t feedin’ dese men-folks ri’. Now yo’ chillens,” she swooped down upon her own family, “yo’all gits outa heah an’ don’t fuss me.”
“They can come with me,” offered Ricky. “I’m trying to find that maze which is marked on the garden plans.”
“Miss ‘Chanda, yo’all ain’t a’goin’ ‘way ‘afo’ yoah brothah gits through his wo’k. He done tol’ me to keep an eye on yo’all. Why don’t yo’all go visit wi’ Miss Charity?”
Ricky looked at her watch. “All right. She’ll be through her morning work by now. I’ll take the children, Lucy.”
To Val’s open surprise, she obeyed Lucy, meekly moving off without a single protest. One of the boys remained behind and offered shyly to take the horse back to Sam’s place. When Lucy agreed that it would be all right, Val boosted him into the saddle where