There's Sime, my butler.

He was a Fusilier Jock and, as you saw, has lost an arm.

Then McGuffog the keeper is a good man, but he's still got a Turkish bullet in his thigh.
The chauffeur, Carfrae, was in the Yeomanry, and lost half a foot; and there's myself, as lame as a duck.

The herds on the home farm are no good, for one's seventy and the other is in bed with jaundice.

The Mains can produce four men, but they're rather a job lot." "They'll do fine," said Dickson heartily.