"I guess you can't then," said Bean. The man who, like other
gamekeepers, lived much in the company of gentlemen, was ordinarily
a civil courteous fellow, who knew how to smile and make things
pleasant. But at this moment he was very much put out. His covert
had been found full of red herrings and strychnine, and his fox had
been poisoned. He had lost his guinea on the day of the hunt, the
guinea which would have been his perquisite had they found a live
fox in his wood. And all this was being done by such a fellow as
Goarly! And now this abandoned wretch was bringing an action
against his Lordship and was leagued with such men as Scrobby and
Bearside! It was a dreadful state of things! How was it likely that
he should give a passage through the wood to anybody coming after
Goarly? "You're on Mr. Twentyman's land now, as I dare say you
know."
"I don't know anything about it"
"Well; that wood is Lord Rufford's wood."
"I did know as much as that, certainly."
"And you can't go into it."
"How shall I find Mr. Goarly's house?"
"If you'll get over that there ditch you'll be on Mister Goarly's
land and that's all about it" Bean as he said this put a strongly
ironical emphasis on the term of respect and then turned back into
the wood.
The Senator made his way down the fence to the bank on which Goarly
had stood with his gun, then over into Goarly's field, and so round
the back of the wood till he saw a small red brick house standing
perhaps four hundred yards from the covert, just on the elbow of a
lane.
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