CHAPTER 6
AN ASSAULT
Surely after all,
The noblest answer unto such
Is perfect stillness when they brawl--_Tennyson_
I have more than once brought up the name of Mr. Maskew; and as I shall
have other things to tell of him later on, I may as well relate here what
manner of man he was. His stature was but medium, not exceeding five feet
four inches, I think; and to make the most of it, he flung his head far
back, and gave himself a little strut in walking. He had a thin face with
a sharp nose that looked as if it would peck you, and grey eyes that
could pierce a millstone if there was a guinea on the far side of it. His
hair, for he wore his own, had been red, though it was now grizzled; and
the colour of it was set down in Moonfleet to his being a Scotchman, for
we thought all Scotchmen were red-headed. He was a lawyer by profession,
and having made money in Edinburgh, had gone so far south as Moonfleet to
get quit, as was said, of the memories of rascally deeds. It was about
four years since he bought a parcel of the Mohune Estate, which had been
breaking up and selling piecemeal for a generation; and on his land stood
the Manor House, or so much of it as was left. Of the mansion I have
spoken before. It was a very long house of two storeys, with a projecting
gable and doorway in the middle, and at each end gabled wings running out
crosswise.
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