"Well, no, sir," said the great dark fellow, smiling grimly; "keeper, sir. There's not many poachers about here now. I told all I knowed as they must clear out, for I meant to do my dooty; and they saw that it was sense, for there'd be no chance for them again a man as knowed as much as I did, so they went off." "By the way, Hayle," said the doctor, "didn't you go to the major on the day before his appointed wedding?" "Night, sir, night? I went to him straight as soon as I knew it for certain; but it was days before I could get to him. When I did get face to face with him, I says, `It's my Judith, captain,' I says, `or one of us is going to be hung for this night's work.' He blustered a bit, and tried to frighten me; but he couldn't do that; and when he found I meant mischief, he gave in. He swore he'd marry her, but he cheated me then. Next time I got hold of him, there was no nonsense, I can tell you. He rang for his man to fetch the police, and I went off; but he never stirred after that without seeing me watching him, and at last he gave in out of sheer fright, and come to where I'd got Judith waiting, and he married her. If he hadn't, I'd have--" The man's lips tightened, and he involuntarily cocked the double gun he carried, but only to lower it once more beneath his arm. "I'm not a boasting man, sir," said the keeper huskily; "but I loved that gal, and the man who did her harm was no better than so much varmin to me. I should have stopped at nothing, sir; I was that wound up. He'd give me nothing but treachery, leading my gal astray, making her lie and say she was going to nurse the old granny out there on the common, when it was only to go off in the woods to him. I told him of it all, and that I was a father--her father. I told him a rat would fight for its young, and that if he expected, because I was a common man, I was not going to do my duty by my gal, he was mistaken. "`Why, what will you do?' he says. "`Do?' I says to him; `do you think I've forgotten that you shot me down out there in the fir wood that night?' "`It was an accident,' he says. "`It was no accident,' I says. `There was light enough for me to see you take aim at me; and then, when I was lying half dead there in my bed, you took advantage of it to lead my child away. It's no use for you to pretend you didn't know. She told you fast enough that I was lying there, and that made it safe.' "`Look here, sir,' I says at last, `there shall be no more shilly-shally between you and me. As I say, I'll let bygones be bygones, if you'll do the right thing. If you don't--well, p'r'aps it won't be this year, nor next year. My chance will come some day, and then--'" There was a pause, and Oldroyd marked the strange glare in the keeper's eyes as he drew in his breath with a loud hiss.