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Levasseur has kindly come over to help me unpack them. Don't
know if you've met him. Mr. Levasseur--Sir Henry Chicksands.'
The man on the floor looked up carelessly, just acknowledging Sir
Henry's slight inclination. Sir Henry's inner mind decided against
him--at once--instinctively. What was a stout fellow, who at any
rate _looked_ as though he were still of military age, doing with
nonsense of this sort, at four o'clock in the day, when England
wanted every able-bodied man she possessed, either to fight for her
or to work for her? At the same time the reflection passed rapidly
through his mind that neither the man nor the name had come up--so
far as he could remember--before the County Tribunal of which he was
Chairman.
'Well, Chicksands, what do you want with me?' said the Squire
abruptly. 'Will you take a chair?' And he pointed to one from which
he hastily removed a coat.
'I have some confidential business to talk to you about,' said Sir
Henry, with a look at the dusty gentleman among the straw.


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