He was gassed at Ypres a year and a half ago, and had a bullet taken
out of his chest about two months since. But he is nearly fit
again.'

The butler expressed his sympathy with a complete absence of shyness
or servility, then threw open a door at the end of the passage,
announcing, 'Sir Henry Chicksands, sir.'

'_D-mn_!' said a voice loudly within.

Sir Henry gave an involuntary start. Another look passed between
him and Forest, amused or interrogative on the visitor's part,
non-committal on the butler's.

* * * * *

The library of Mannering 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