ou will--I know you will.'

Chicksands shrugged his shoulders.

'I shall do my best. But you know as well as I do that he's a queer
customer when it comes to anything connected with the war.'

The girl looked behind her to make sure that the old butler of the
house had retired discreetly out of earshot.

'But he can't quarrel with _you_, father!'

'I hope not--for your sake.'

'Must you really tackle him?'

'Well, I thought I was the person to do it. It's quite certain
nobody else could make anything of it.'

Privately Beryl disagreed, but she made no comment.

'Aubrey seems to be pretty worried,' she said, in a depressed tone,
as she turned away.

'I don't wonder. He should have brought up his father better. Well,
good-bye, dear. Don't bother too much.'

She waved her hand to him as he made off, and stood watching him
from the steps--a gentle, attaching figure, her fair hair and the
pale oval of her face standing out against the panelled hall behind
her.

Her father went his way down a long winding hill beyond his own
grounds, along a country road lined with magnificent oaks, through a
village where his practised eye noted several bad cottages with
disapproval, till presently he slackened his horse's pace, as he
passed an ill-looking farm about half a mile beyond the village.

'Not a decent gate in the whole place!' he said to himself with
disgust. 'And the farm buildings only fit for a bonfire. High time
indeed that we made Mannering sit up!'

He paused also to look over the neighbouring hedge at some fields
literally choked with weeds.

'And as for Gregson--lazy, drunken fellow! Why didn't he set some
village women on? Just see what they've done on my place! Hullo,
here he is! Now I'm in for it!' For he saw a slouching man coming
rapidly towards him from the farmyard, with the evident intention
of waylaying him. The man's shabby, untidy dress and blotched
complexion did not escape Sir Henry's quick eye. 'Seems to have
been making a night of it,' was his inward comment.

'Good-day, Sir Henry,' said the farmer, laying a hand on Chicksands'
bridle, 'I wanted a word with you, sir. I give you fair warning, you
and your Committee, you'll not turn me out without a fight! I was
never given no proper notice--and there are plenty as 'll stand by
me.'

The voice was thick and angry, and the hand shook. Sir Henry drew
his horse away, and the man's hold dropped.

'Of course you had every notice,' said Sir