“Pulsey!” the Marquis exclaimed. “I thought I recognised you!”
“That’s right, my Lord. I used to take you and Mr. John shootin’ in the old days when you was livin’ up at The Castle.”
“You heard I was back?” the Marquis asked. “Everyone knows that, my Lord, and I ’opes for a chance of a word with your Lordship.”
“What can I do for you, Pulsey?”
“I wondered if there be any sort of job at The Castle, my Lord. I’d do anythin’. I’m not proud.”
“You are no longer employed by Sir Caspar?” “No, my Lord! He sacked me three years ago.” “And why was that?”
“’Twas after ’is accident, my Lord. ’E’d no use for a gamekeeper when that ’ad ’appened.”
“I had not heard of any accident,” the Marquis queried.
“Well, ’twere not exactly an accident, my Lord, but Sir Caspar lost the first finger of his ri
