He knew Charles Harold, of course, as a young and brilliant chemist, who had left the Works in order to make a special study of certain matters in China. So here was another Harold, probably a most unusual chap, running a little paper and writing about modern painting.
“There’s real genius in that family,” he thought.
He went to the telephone at once, got through to Mr. Harold, and asked him to come to lunch that day. He would be in Stubbington, and would bring him out to
When this had been arranged, he drove over to Stubbington to the police station, where he explained that he owned Spirr Wood, that he had warned the Hunt that he wished it to be observed as a bird sanctuary, and not to be drawn, and that conspicuous notices of PRIVATE were at several points. In spite of this (here he produced his casts), a drag had been run through it, his gate broken open and unhinged, and his fields and property trespassed upon and damaged. He wanted summonses against those who had broken open the gate, laid the drag and ridden the covert. He said that he had reason to suppose that the drag was laid by a Miss Drachm, and two friends. The casts on the table were of the footprints of the three whom he believed to be guilty of the drag, but the Hunt must have known of the drag and were guilty of the trespass. The Master and the huntsman, and probably the Whip as well, must have been in the secret. He had taken pains to show the Hunt that Spirr Wood was to be a bird sanctuary, and as such not to be disturbed. He had spent, as he put it, a pot of money on the place, and would not permit his wishes to be flouted thus.
The Police Inspector was a large and genial man; he had had a man out to Spirr to see the damage done.
“You could see they’d been in the field,” he said. “They’d had the wires round the gate cut with clippers and had taken the gate off the hinges. Since you insist upon it, Mr. Mansell, the summonses shall be issued. Are you sure that the PRIVATE notices could be seen?”
“Certain,” Frampton said.
“My man says that he didn’t see any notices.”
“They were there.”
“He says he couldn’t see any. He says he couldn’t see much damage to the wood, except just at the fence.”
“The fence and the gate,” Mansell said.
“You see,” the Inspector went on, “the bench has no jurisdiction for trespass, unless damage is done. And the damage must be done wilfully and/or maliciously.”
“I do not say that much damage was done,” Frampton said. “I say that some was done, wilfully and maliciously. The Master of the Hunt could have stopped his servant trespassing on the field. The huntsman could have stopped the hounds entering the covert. They didn’t; and I’ll have them up for it.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” the Inspector said. “You leave it to the Law.”
“Do you know anyone named Pob Ted?” Frampton asked.
The Inspector’s brow clouded.
“Him and Miss Drachm’ll be my death one day,” he said, but said no more.
After this, Frampton went on to meet Richard Harold at the
He was like the young naval officer in charge of a picket-boat, very happy in his first command. As the young naval man may thrill at the question, “Who commands this saucy packet?” so did Richard Harold thrill when someone clumped up the dark and winding stair, and asked: “Where can I find the Editor?”
“It’s no great shakes of a place,” Harold explained. “It’s in the old premises of the founder, with the press at the back, there. But it’s awfully interesting experience. I’ve been here a year, and I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”