We generally gets wind of 'em beforehand, and
then out we all goes, and Squire with us--for he dearly loves a
fight--and then there's broken crowns and bloody noses; but, thank God,
there's been no murder done, at least, not in my time, at Crompton. And
that reminds me, Sir, that it's time for me to start on my evening
rounds."
"Well, when you next have any news of such an incursion, Grange, I hope
you will let me make one of your party," said Yorke, good-humoredly. "I
can hit out straight from the shoulder; and perhaps I might get to know
the Squire _that_ way."
"And as likely a road to lead you into his good graces, Sir," said the
keeper, rising, "as any I know. Are you for a walk round the park this
fine evening, Sir?"
"No; not to-night, thank you, Grange. I have got to fill in this sketch
a bit that I took this morning."
"Then, good-night, Sir, for I sha'n't return before daylight."
But it was not till long after the keeper had taken his departure that
Richard Yorke turned hand or eye to his unfinished drawing. He sat
staring straight before him with steadfast eyes and thoughtful face, for
hours, murmuring to himself disjointed sentences; and ever and anon he
started up and paced the little room with rapid strides. "He shall see
me, and know me, too," muttered he, at last, between his clenched teeth,
"though it should cost one of us our lives.
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