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,’ he said with emphasis; ’it’s all the war.  I’m told to do things I don’t want to do, which affect my personal freedom, and other people’s, because of a war I don’t believe in, never asked for, and don’t approve of.  Here’s Levasseur now, a clever fellow, cleverer than either you or me, Chicksands, and he’s no more patriotic than I am.  You talk to him!’

‘Thank you, I’m too busy,’ said Sir Henry sharply, his face stiffening.  ’Where can you see me, Mannering?  I’m rather pressed for time.  Is the smoking-room free?’ And with a marked avoidance of any concern with the gentleman on the floor, who had by now risen to his feet, Sir Henry made an impatient movement towards a door at the further end of the library which stood ajar.

Levasseur looked amused.  He was a strongly-built, smooth-shaven fellow, with rather long hair, and the sallow look of the cigarette-smoker.  His eyes were sleepy, his expression indolent or good-natured.

‘Oh, I’ll make myself scarce with the greatest pleasure,’ he said civilly.  ’I can stroll about the park till you’re ready for me again,’ he added, turning to the Squire.  ’Lovely day—­I’ll take a book and some cigarettes.’  And diving into an open box which stood near he filled his cigarette-case from it, and then looked round him for a book.  ’Where’s that copy of the Anthology?  That’ll do nicely.’

The Squire burst into a laugh, observing Sir Henry.

‘He’s over military age, Chicksands.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Sir Henry stiffly.

’But only by six months, when the Act passed.  So he’s just escaped you.’

‘I’ve really no concern whatever with Mr. Levasseur’s affairs.’  Sir Henry had flushed angrily.  ‘Is it to be here, or the smoking-room?’

‘Ta-ta!  See you again presently,’ said Levasseur.  ’Ah, there’s the book!’ And diving to the floor for a hat and a book lying beside it, he made off, lighting a cigarette, with a laughing backward glance towards the Squire and his companion.

‘Well, now, what is it?’ said Mannering, throwing himself with an air of resignation into a low arm-chair, and taking out a pipe.  ‘Won’t you smoke, Chicksands?’