This phase of the aristocratic routine, he felt,
did not commend itself so warmly to him as did some others.
Everybody else, however, seemed to regard it as so wholly
a matter of course that Plowden should do as he liked,
that he forbore formulating a complaint even to himself.
At last, this nobleman's valet descended the stairs
once more. "His Lordship will be down very shortly
now, sir," he declared--"and will you be good enough
to come into the gun-room, sir, and see the keeper?"
Thorpe followed him through a doorway under the staircase--the
existence of which he had not suspected--into a
bare-looking apartment fitted like a pantry with shelves.
After the semi-gloom of the hall, it was almost
glaringly lighted. The windows and another door opened,
he saw, upon a court connected with the stable-yard.
By this entrance, no doubt, had come the keeper,
a small, brown-faced, brown-clothed man of mature years,
with the strap of a pouch over his shoulder, who stood
looking at the contents of the shelves. He mechanically
saluted Thorpe in turn, and then resumed his occupation.
There were numerous gun cases on the lower shelf,
and many boxes and bags above.
"Did his Lordship say what gun?" the keeper demanded
of the valet. He had a bright-eyed, intent glance,
and his tone conveyed a sense of some broad, impersonal,
out-of-doors disdain for liveried house-men.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137