Change in the neighbourhood of Brackley extended no further. The blunt-eyed, resident policeman, somehow never managed to come across the poachers who made raids upon The Warren and upon Brackley during the absence of their owners; while over at Lindham, the doctor learned from old Mother Wattley, who grew more chatty and apparently younger, under her skilful medical man’s care, that Ben Hayle—‘my son-in-law’—had taken an acre of land, and was ‘goin’ to make a fortun’ there as a florist; but when Oldroyd met the ex-keeper one day, and went over the garden with him, it seemed improbable that it would even pay the rent.
“Better turn to your old business, Hayle,” said Oldroyd.
“Easier said than done, sir,” replied the man. “Old master gave me my chance when I was a young fool, and liked to do a bit o’ poaching, believing honestly then that all birds were wild, and that I had as good a right to them as anybody. But I soon found out the difference when I had to rear them, and I served him honest, and Mrs Rolph too, all those years, till she discharged me because of the captain’s liking for my Judith.”
“But surely there were other places to be found by a man with a good character.”
“Didn’t seem like it, sir. I tried till I was beat out, and then, in a kind of despairing fit, I went out with some of the lads, and you know what I got for my pains.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “and it ought to be a lesson for you, Hayle.”
“Yes, sir, it ought; but you see, once a man takes to that kind of work it’s hard to keep from it.”
“But, my good fellow, you may be laid by the heels in gaol at any time. I wondered you were not taken over that affair.”
“So I should have been, if I’d had any other doctor, sir,” said Hayle, with a meaning smile, “and the police had been a little sharper. But you didn’t chatter, and our fellows didn’t, and so I got off.”
“But think, now; you, the father of a young girl like Miss Hayle, what would her feelings be if you were sent to prison like that young fellow—what’s his name—was.”