“Now and again he’d have some friends down from London, but he only entertained the local people, sir, when the Judge came down for the Assizes at Lewes. Otherwise he kept to himself, spending his time riding, looking after the farms on the estate, and, in the season, shooting. Peters had been right about the poachers. Sir Roger had the finest shoot in that part of the world, and the poachers were always at it. It was partly because he was so badly liked, for I found out that a lot of the local chaps were on the poachers’ side and helped them. This Black Jack was the worst. The local people seemed to be very much afraid of him, and didn’t like to talk about him. They were superstitious about him and very careful to keep on his right side. They told some funny tales. The first time I saw him was in the village about three weeks after I arrived. He was tall and slim and very dark, a good bit of the gipsy in him, I should say, sir. His face was like a hawk’s, and he had a very piercing look, a nasty customer to get up against, he seemed to me. He had his dog, Scottie, with him, a big mongrel, a mixture of collie and lurcher he looked, who’d got the name of being the cleverest at his job in the county, a savage, cunning looking brute. Well, Black Jack came up to me with a cheeky contemptuous look on his face. ‘You’re the new bottle-washer at the Hall, aren’t you,’ he said. He had almost a gentleman’s voice, sir. ‘Well, I don’t suppose you’ll stay any longer than the other bottle-washers. You haven’t met Scottie, have you?’ The dog bared its teeth and snarled and growled. ‘Doesn’t seem to like you, never does seem to like Hall folk, somehow; can’t think where he learnt to hate ’em. Well, tell that old ---- of yours I shall be working the East Side for the next week or so,’ and he sauntered off. “I gave Wilkins, the head-keeper, the tip. ‘That’s like his blasted sauce,’ he said. ‘I’ll get that fine gentleman one of these days! I’ve had enough of him. It’ll mean a new job for me if I miss him this time. I sometimes think he’s got the Devil on his side. Say nothing to the master if you like a quiet life.’ “Well, Black Jack started his business as he said he would. He and his gang cleaned up the coverts on the East Side, but none of them was caught. Directly the poaching began the master began to drink. He was out every night, and his temper was something I’d never seen before, but he never actually went for me--Wilkins got it, though, sir. He and three other keepers got the sack, and a new lot came in. Wilkins didn’t seem sorry to go. He told me he’d had enough of it, and that the master’s cursing was too bad to put up with.