Elizabeths Campaign | Page 6

Hall as Sir Henry Chicksands entered it
presented a curious spectacle. It was a long, barn-like room, partly
lined with books, and partly with glass cases, in which Greek vases,
Tanagra figures, and other Greek and Etruscan antiquities, all carefully
marked and labelled, were displayed. A few large tables stood at
intervals on the shabby carpet, also laden with books and specimens.

They conveyed an impression of dust and disorder, as though no
housemaid had been allowed to touch them for weeks--with one
exception. A table, smaller than the rest, but arranged with scrupulous
neatness, stood at one side of the room, with a typewriter upon it,
certain books, and a rack for stationery. A folded duster lay at one
corner. Pens, pencils, a box of clips, and a gum-pot stood where a
careful hand had placed them. And at a corner corresponding to the
duster was a small vase of flowers--autumnal roses--the only flowers in
the room.
But the various untidy accumulations, most of which seemed to be of
old standing, had been evidently just added to by some recent arrivals.
Four large packing-cases, newly opened, took up much of what free
space was left on the floor. The straw, paper, and cottonwool, in which
their contents had been packed, had been tossed out with a careless or
impatient hand, and littered the carpet. Among the litter stood here and
there some Greek vases of different sizes; in particular, a superb pair,
covered with figures; beside which stood the owner of Mannering,
talking to an apparently young man with an eye-glass, who was sitting
on the floor closely examining the vases. The Squire turned a furrowed
brow towards his approaching visitor, and putting down a small bronze
he had been holding raised a warning hand.
'How do you do, Chicksands? Very sorry, but I'm much too filthy to
touch. And I'm horribly busy! These things arrived last night, and Mr.
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.
'Something you want me to do that I'll be bound I shan't want to do! Is
that it?' said Mannering with vivacity.
He stood with his hands on a table behind him, his long spare frame in
a nervous fidget, his eyes bright and hostile, and a spot of red on either
thin cheek. Beside Chicksands, who was of middle height, solidly built,
and moderately stout, with mental and physical competence written all
over him, the Squire of Mannering seemed but the snippet of a man. He
was singularly thin, with a slender neck, and a small head covered with
thick hair, prematurely white, which tumbled over his forehead and
eyes. He had the complexion of a girl, disproportionately large nose,
very sharply and delicately cut as to bridge and nostril, and a mouth
and chin which seemed to be in perpetual movement. He looked older
than Sir Henry, who was verging on sixty, but he was in fact just over
fifty.
Sir Henry smiled a little at the tone of the Squire's question, but he
answered good-humouredly.
'I believe, when we've talked it over, you won't think it unreasonable.
But I've come to explain.'
'I know, you want me to give Gregson notice. But I warn you I'm not
the least inclined to do anything of the kind.' And the speaker crossed
his arms, which were very long and thin, over a narrow chest, while his
eyes restlessly countered those of Sir Henry.
Chicksands paused a moment before replying.
'I have a good many papers here to show you,' he said at last, mildly,
drawing a large envelope half-way from the inner pocket of his coat to

illustrate his words, and then putting it back again. 'But I really can't
discuss them except with yourself.'
The Squire's eyes shot battle.
'It's the war, of course,'