His Prey Was Man

Chapter I.—At Bay.-2

Her thoughts ran on. And, all apart from the shame of any confession, the aftermath of her telling him would be so terrible. Of course the gamekeeper would be dismissed instantly, for her husband was not the kind of man to make any terms with a blackmailer. Then the wretch would spread the dreadful scandal all round the countryside that she had once been an unmarried mother. It would be a wicked lie, but nothing would stop his talking and the gossip would spread from servant to servant, until at last it reached the ears of her friends. She shuddered to think how wounded her husband's great pride would be when he knew the tale was going round that his wife had had a child before she married him.

Then the thought came to her that perhaps things might not turn out to be as bad as she was anticipating. Perhaps, she need not have to say anything, after all. The gamekeeper might prove quite reasonable and be content with a few pounds every now and then! Contrary to what he had ordered her—she shuddered here again at the thought of being ‘ordered’ by one of her husband's servants—she would take care never to meet him. She would keep right away from the woods and never give him the chance of speaking to her alone. All the time, however, she would never let more than a week or so pass without putting a pound note or two under the boards of the swans' house. In acting in that way she would be making it quite clear to him that, while she was willing to give him a little money now and then, she was not afraid of him and did not intend to be bullied in any way.

She sighed heavily. Well, that was all she could do for the moment. At any fate she must not make the man her enemy and then, of course, he would realise it would pay him best to leave her alone.

So she returned to the house determined to make the best of things, and that afternoon, having hidden a five-pound note in the place arranged, tried to delude herself into the belief that as long as she was willing to pay small sums of money to her blackmailer she had the whip-hand over him.

That evening at dinner it came to her with a dreadful pang that she had never really been grateful enough for the peace and happiness which had been hers up to a few short hours ago. Her surroundings had been all of the fulfilment of life's promise in its most generous form.

Surely she had had everything which a woman could wish for, a husband who worshipped her, the loveliest baby in all the world, and a most beautiful home! Now—and with the greatest difficulty she kept the misery from her face—all her happiness depended upon the will of a coarse, rough man. He would ruin her whole life, just by the uttering of a few words. Henceforth she would be living as a haunted woman.

The next day, however, everything seemed to go on just as usual, and she tried to put out of her mind that she had ever met the gamekeeper in the wood. Thank Heaven his cottage was a mile and more away from the Hall, and there were parts of the estate where she could take her daily walks and be certain of not meeting him!

A week passed and she saw nothing of the man. She put two more pound notes in the swans' house, slipping out at night so that she would be certain not to meet him. Then, on the tenth day she saw him passing the dining-room windows on his way towards the servants' part of the house. He stared in hard as he went by, then, two days later she saw him again. She was out in the grounds with her husband this time but, when he came up to speak to the Colonel, she walked on, leaving the two to have their conversation together. She did not so much as glance at the gamekeeper. She learnt afterwards that his excuse for being there was that he had run out of cartridges, and had come up for some more.

Her husband overtook her in a few minutes and, with a quickly beating heart, she noticed he was frowning. “I like that new man, Vance,” he said, “and yet, at the same time, I don't. He seems capable and to know his work, but he's inclined to be familiar, and I thought he stared rather impudently at you.”

Jean pretended to yawn as if she were not in the least bit interested. “I didn't notice it,” she said. “I suppose it's only his manner.”

The next night she took two more notes to the hiding place and, as she flashed her little electric torch to put them under the board, her eyes fell upon a large piece of paper upon which was scrawled in rough handwriting, “I want to speak to you, to-morrow at eleven.”

She caught her breath in her dismay and her heart beat like a sledge-hammer. So, he wasn't going to leave her alone! He was going to worry her! He would make her desperate! She clenched her teeth together. But she wouldn't go. She would defy him, and she ran quickly back to the house in case by any chance he should, even then, be on the look-out for her.

Firm in her resolve, she did not go near the wood the next day, wondering and very frightened, however, what the gamekeeper would do. Two days went by, and upon the third she saw her husband off in his car to attend the usual weekly Justices' Meeting at North Walsham. Then, not ten minutes later, she realised the gamekeeper must have been watching, for the butler came to find her and announced that Vance was outside and would like to speak to her.

She choked back her consternation. “The game-keeper!” she exclaimed. “What does he want to speak to me for?”

“About a young squirrel he's caught, mum,” replied the butler. “I thinks he wants to know if you'd like to have it as a pet.”

For the moment she was minded to send out a message, but then, thinking it was best the man should see she was not afraid of him, she thought better of it. She would face him and face him down.

“Very well,” she said, “tell him to wait. Say I'll be out in a minute.”

But it was much longer than a minute before she appeared upon the gravelled drive where the game-keeper was waiting; indeed it was nearly ten, and then she regarded him coldly and without the slightest trace of fear. He touched his cap with a grin, the expression upon his face being anything but a respectful one.

“Why didn't you come as I told you to?” he asked in a hoarse, intense whisper.

She ignored his question. “What do you want now?” she asked.

“Two pounds is not enough,” he snarled. “I want ten.”

“Then you won't get them,” she snapped. “I'll leave you three next week, but not a penny more before Monday.”

“Then you know what'll happen,” he retorted angrily. “I shall tell the master.”

“You fool!” she exclaimed contemptuously. “You'll lose every penny and your place as well if you drive me into a corner. If you worry me any more I shall tell the Colonel everything,” and without another word she turned on her heel and went back into the house.

Then followed a dreadful time for Jean Hilary. The gamekeeper was continually demanding extra money and, notwithstanding all her attempts at remaining firm, she began to yield the more and more to him. There was no help for it as, if she did not give him the amounts he asked, he took to hanging round the house upon one excuse and another, and she was terrified her husband would fall out with him.

There was added danger in his not being always perfectly sober, and she knew that if the Colonel happened to meet him when in that condition he would dismiss him at once, for the one thing he would not tolerate in his employees was drunkenness.

Her terrible anxiety began to affect her health, and her husband became really anxious about her, his care and solicitude, however, only making her worry worse.

Then one late afternoon things came to a climax. Returning alone in her car along the main road from North Walsham where she had been doing some shopping, the gamekeeper suddenly darted out from behind some trees and, planting himself right in front of her, forced her to stop barely a hundred yards away from the lodge gates.

“No, it's no good you trying to avoid me,” he cried angrily, “for I'll get at you in one way or another, whatever I have to do. Now, look here, I'm going to talk to you and I'll tell you straight what I want. Give me £500 and I'll clear off and you won't see me again. I want to join in with a man who's training some horses. No nonsense, I want that £500 and I mean to have it.”

She was about to lash out at him in fury for stopping her in the open road, but realised in time that he had been drinking and was in a condition when he might do anything. So she said sharply, “I'll think it over. I can't decide all at once. It's a big sum you're asking.”

“A big sum,” he exclaimed. “Why, it'd be nothing to the boss and you just cook up some lie to get it from him.” He spoke jeeringly. “Women can always tell lies and——”

“But we can't talk here,” she interrupted, fearful that his loud voice might be heard at the lodge and the keeper there come out to see what was happening. “I'll meet you one day by the lake.”

“No, not by the lake,” he ordered loudly, “you come to my cottage to-morrow and then no one will see us talking.” He looked at her slyly. “I won't bite you. You needn't be afraid. Come round at five o'clock.”

“All right,” she panted, “but let me go now,” and, reluctantly, he moved away from the car and allowed her to pass.

“God!” she murmured brokenly as she drove into the grounds. “I'll have to tell Basil now.” Then she remembered they were going to some friends that evening and added with a choke, “No, I won't tell him to-night. He shall be happy for a few more hours. I'll tell him to-morrow.” She could hardly keep back her tears. “It'll be the end of all our happiness then, and our lives will never be the same again.”

That evening she dressed herself most carefully to look her very best, and there was no trace of her inward misery as she presented herself to her husband for inspection just before their car was brought round. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed and she carried herself, not with the poise of a condemned woman, but with that of a queen moving among her subjects.

“How lovely you are, darling,” said the Colonel as he kissed her fondly. “I've never seen you more beautiful than you are to-night.” He sighed happily. “I am a fortunate man.”

It was a dinner party they were going to, to be followed by a small informal dance. Arriving at their friend's house, the hostess drew Jean to one side.

“I'm going to introduce you to such an interesting man, to-night, dear,” she said. “Mr. Gilbert Larose. You know he used to be one of the star detectives of Scotland Yard until he married that rich widow, Lady Ardane, and gave up all his work. I've arranged that he shall take you into dinner and you will be amazed what a charming man an ex-detective can be.” She laughed slyly. “I expect he'll be your slave after about ten minutes, as he is very susceptible where pretty girls are concerned.”