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No.' The man laughed now. 'This is only the tip of it; you know, like an iceberg, there's quite a big piece in the earth.'Joe looked puzzled.'You interested in stones, sir?' he said.'Well'-there was still laughter in the voice-'not exactly stones, but stone. I chip away at it, you know.''Oh.''Cut out figures and things.''Oh.

Oh, yes, I see, sir, like sculptor men?''Yes. Yes, like sculptor men. And'-he now turned away to look along a gully that was bordered by lumps of stone, and indicating it, he said, 'There's a lot of stone there, but most of it's rubbish. This bit though'- he now turned and motioned towards it with his foot-'could be useful.''How will you get it out?''Oh, I'll have help. I'll have some of the men from the yard.'

164Joe did not enquire which yard.This ridge, you know, runs right through the wood. The gully is shallow but the stone must go deep down along it. I shouldn't be surprised-' He seemed now to be talking to himself as he went on, 'I shouldn't be surprised if they start quarrying here some day; and yet they are using bricks now for buildings, because they are less expensive, I suppose. But there's no character in bricks.' He turned and looked at Joe, and Joe smiled as he said, They give you good shelter, sir.'Douglas flexed his shoulders in acknowledgement and said, 'Yes. Yes, you're right there.' Then he looked at Joe more intently. 'Do you live around here?' he asked.'I used to ... well, I mean, sir, not so far away. Now I live just outside Birtley ... in a brick house.'Their short laughs intermingled, then Joe said,

'Well, good evening to you, sir.''Good evening.'They both inclined their heads; then Joe turned and walked back through the trees, thinking as he went, I should have asked him if he had seen anybody, a fellow, passing; but I suppose that would have sounded

165funny. He returned to the path and walked on to where it joined the bridle path before turning and making his way back.The man was still there, but sitting a little further off where the trees had thinned out.

He seemed to be perched on a mound of some sort and was looking over the open land edging the wood on that side.He walked slowly on. He knew he had come out on a fool's errand; it wasn't likely that Fred would tackle a man on a road like this. The presence of the man sitting on the ridge was enough for him to realize that there could be others dotted about the wood. It was only by chance that he had first glimpsed the fellow. Had he not been on the alert, looking, he could easily have passed him. And so there could be others about un-seen . . .As Joe walked along by the line of beech trees, now bursting into full leaf but with their lower trunks still embraced by the tangle of bramble, he, in his turn, was being watched by Fred himself, hidden at the very same spot where they had last year picked the blackberries which had led to the separation in the family. He had seen Joe first coming-166 over the field towards the path, and the sight of his brother had startled him. What he was on the look-out for were the horses that had to come across that field if they wanted to get on to the woodland path. He was waiting for one particular rider, and were he to see him tonight it wouldn't be the first time he had passed him on this very road. It would be truer to say the rider had passed him, and at a gallop.But after he had seen Joe enter the wood he impatiently settled down to await his return, for he could do nothing until his brother was out of the way; even were the fellow to come past now, he wouldn't approach him.Up till these last few days he had been too afraid even of the idea of approaching the man, knowing what Joe himself would do to him if he found out, and that before he might let on to Andy Davison. But then, his wily rather than intelligent thinking made him call himself a silly bugger, for if he tackled the fellow on the quiet and they came to some agreement, who was to know? Not Joe or anybody else. And the fellow would be bound to want it kept quiet; everyone knew 167he was to be married in a matter of hours, and that the girl was rich, and he'd get her money, and so he wouldn't want exposure. Now, would he? No. He saw himself as a dim-witted fool not to have taken the chance to bring up the matter with the man before this. And what's more, so he put to himself and, as he thought, cleverly, the threat of exposure would definitely put a stop to his gallop in this form of whoring.It was almost half an hour later, and he had become weary of waiting, when he saw Joe again.

He came walking briskly out of the wood, but instead of continuing along the path by the beech trees, he went straight on to the field, which meant he would be making for the town.Fred walked up on the inside of the avenue of trees until they ended in the wood; then he pushed through the bramble and onto the path and kept on walking.The trees were now forming quite a canopy overhead, and further dimmed the light. He didn't like the feeling, and when quite suddenly they thinned out into a kind of glade, he diverted a few steps from the path and stood with his back against a broad 168trunk and so positioning himself that he could see either way along the woodland.He had been in this watchful position for but a few minutes when he heard the sound of horses' hooves. Then, there they were, two horses and riders. The horses were bespattered. They had likely been hunting, he thought.He remained still, and they passed him without noticing him. Unless they had been deliberately looking for him, in this light he must have merged into the dark trunk and the shrubs dotted here and there in the glade. But he quickly realized that the man he was after was not one of them.He let out a long breath; then once more he was alert, for now there was another horse and rider approaching.He brought his back from the tree and stood waiting, but again the rider was not the man he was looking for and also passed him without apparently noticing him.Five minutes later he made up his mind to go back home, having concluded that instead of being out riding the fellow was more likely getting stiff with his pals, as was their

169custom a night or so before a wedding, when there he was.Although the twilight was deepening he made him out from a distance. He was a distinct figure, and what was more he was walking his horse, not even trotting it.As the man neared him and as if he had practised the whole scene, he almost jumped into the middle of the path and put up his hand, calling, 'Stop a minute! mister.'Lionel Filmore drew his horse to a halt and looked down on the workman, saying, 'What is it?' The man didn't look a beggar so he didn't bawl at him to get out of the way, but repeated, 'What is it?'"I'd like a word with you, mister.'Lionel Filmore's tone now changed, and he cried, 'You get out of the way, and this minute!'When Fred put up his hand to grab the rein near the bit and saw the whip being lifted and about to come down on him, he cried, 'Don't do that, mister! I'm warnin' you. I want a word with you, and it's about Lily Whitmore. Remember her?'He watched the man in the saddle stiffen, and feeling he was on the right road, he said,

170'You're to be married the morrow, or the next day. Lily's bairn was born a fortnight or so ago.''What are you talking about? Get out of my way!'There was five pounds in a little washleather bag. It was down the road there behind you; you gave it to her, on a Sunday. Aye, on a Sunday. Well, how would it be if she brings your son up to see Miss Victoria Mordaunt? She's thinkin' about it, but she could be persuaded otherwise. D'you get me meanin', mister?'It seemed to be minutes before Lionel Filmore slowly brought his leg over the horse's back and stepped down onto the path. Every part of his body was taut. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He had thought he was all set. He had hated the signing of that paper with that bitch's terms; but two thousand a year was two thousand a year, and on top of this she was still allowing Victoria a dress allowance of five hundred; and she was even paying for the honeymoon in Paris. He had put that to her, standing facing her in that office: 'Is the honeymoon off?'

he had said, and had sarcastically

171 added, The cost of that will bite deep into my allowance.' If ever he had hated anybody in his life, he had hated her at that moment, and he knew the feeling was returned. But now there was a new hate in him. He felt he wanted to get this fellow by the throat and choke the life out of him because he was threatening his whole existence. Lily Whitmore. He had even forgotten her existence. And she had borne a son. My God! He had a son. Bastard or no, he had a son.Well, he supposed he could have had a son a number of times before, but surely he would have heard about it. But here he was now, hearing about it, and God Almighty! at this time. My God! yes; let that stiff bitch hear of this and there would be no two thousand a year. Even if Victoria would have accepted his infidelity and the fact of the son, that devil in hell would cut off the agreement as if by a stroke of lightning. Oh, he knew her type.He now glared at the man before leading the horse a few steps into the wood and looping the reins over a branch. He then walked on, still within the trees but keeping to the

172edge of the clearing. Why he was doing this he didn't ask himself; he only knew he wanted to be well away from the path.When he stopped he turned to Fred, who had followed him, and was now standing a yard or so away from him. 'You want to bargain, you want money? Is that it?' he asked him.'Aye, speaking plainly, that's what I want, money. An' ... an' I'll see she's looked after.''I had the faint idea that she had married someone.''Aye, she did. That's me brother. But he's not the kind to see to his wife or the bairn. Now me, I like to see justice done.''And you've waited until the last moment to see that it's done?'Fred grinned now, and hunched his shoulders as he said, 'Aye. Aye. You could say I've got me wits about me. I'm not very well in health; I take to me bed quite a bit; but up top'-he tapped his forehead-'it's in good condition.'Lionel Filmore was staring unblinking at the face that was becoming less distinct, for he was seeing the fellow as through a red

173haze, but he let him go on talking and when he heard him say, 'I think we could manage on fifty quid a month,' his mind immediately reckoned up to six hundred pounds a year out of his new windfall. It wasn't to be thought of.No! No! My God! No! His whole life ruined, finished, ended by this slob.His hands shot out from his sides, clutched at the shoulders, then grappled towards the fellow's throat; and the attack was so sudden and fierce that Fred had no time to retaliate before he felt himself falling backwards, with his fists that should have struck out in blows, fully opened into widespread fingers to save his fall. His head hitting the root of a tree and the body falling on top of him stunned him for a moment and he became inert. And it was in this moment that Lionel Filmore, loosening one hand away from the throat, groped into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a small sheath knife that he used for getting stones out of his horse's hooves. It was when the man under him attempted to throw him off while yelling at the same time, that he drove the knife into his neck, and so close was his 174face to the other's that he saw in the dimness the startled look in the eyes before he himself sprang up.His hand on the knife covered with blood, he stood gasping as he looked down on the inert figure with the blood spreading from the neck and down the dark coat.As he took two stumbling steps backwards he became aware that his hand was held out, the knife still gripped in it, and that both were dripping blood.Leaning against a tree and using his left hand, he pulled from his pocket a large white handkerchief with which he hastily wiped his hand, but as he did so the knife dropped from it, the point piercing the soil between the roots of the tree, while the blood-stained handkerchief hung slack from his fingers, and immediately the significance and horror of what had happened created in him the urge to get rid of this bloodied thing, but he restrained himself from throwing it to the ground. Then stooping, he grabbed up the knife and was about to put them both back into his inner pocket when he hesitated: the inside of his jacket was lined with grey silk.

175He looked wildly about him now as though for a place to throw both the handkerchief and the knife from him. Casting his eyes downwards, he walked halfway round the tree before digging his heel into what looked like a soft patch of soil, then bending with the intention of scraping at the soil with his hand, he again hesitated. He had noticed a thickish twig lying almost at his feet, and with this he scraped at the soil until his efforts were checked by a crossing root.Almost in panic now he rolled the handkerchief round the knife and aimed to thrust it under the root. But although he could manage to wedge only about an inch of the covered blade under it, his panic was urging him to be rid of these things, and like an automaton that had been wound up to full pitch he frantically kicked the soil over the small hole, pressed it down hard with his heel, then with the side of his foot he raked some loose leaves over the protruding roots.He now stood for a time, one forearm supporting him against the tree, and as though the automaton was now running down, his movements became slow as he took steps 176back to where the blood-stained figure was still lying.He could barely make it out for his gaze was misted with sweat, yet he thought it moved; but as he stared at it he knew it was his imagination.

Nevertheless, he skirted it widely in his eagerness to reach the clearing again. Here the twilight seemed like bright daylight compared to the gloom behind him . . .He untethered his horse, but he found he hadn't the strength as yet to lead him, and he stood leaning against the animal's side for a moment before, taking the reins, he walked with him along the path. But he had gone not more than twenty yards when he was startled so much that he caused the animal to rear its head and step sharply to the side.Slowly, he turned his head to see Douglas, who had called out, 'Hello there!' coming towards him through the trees.'What's the matter? Are you hurt?'He found he had to wet his lips twice before he could speak, saying, 'He ... he threw me. I ... I took a gate back there in ... in the farm field.''Good lord! He's never done that before, 177(has he? He's as sure-footed as, well, as a lynx. You've always said so yourself.'There's always a ...

a beginning, a first time.''You hurt anywhere?''No. No, just a bit shaken. He sprang . . . he sprang a shoe.