’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. Let us be gone. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. From time to time, however, he was baffled. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. But you want one quality, without which all others are valueless. Your brother has everything—I have not shown myself capable even of earning my own living except in a way which could not possibly bring any credit upon anybody. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him.
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