‘Meaning unnatural death. And there is no doubt in my mind that these deaths should not have occurred. Anyhow, the Chief Constable is now fully armed with his exhumation order, and intends to go ahead with the business.’

‘Will it help him?’

‘No. It will help nobody but the murderers, and perhaps not even those. By the way, I was in Groaning Spinney with two of the students and young Robert Emming this morning, and he made – Hullo! Here’s Sally!’

‘Jon, dear,’ said Sally, ‘can you mount me? I can’t display my prowess to the Cotswold. That’s flying much too high. But a boy I know told me that your local pack can do pretty well behind a local fox, and there’s a meet over at Tivingbridge next Wednesday. What about it?’

‘You can have Three Legs,’ said Jonathan decisively. ‘I’m not having you ruin my best hunters over stone walls.’

‘I promise not to put Truelove to a single wall.’

‘Your promise is void, dear girl. You don’t get Truelove for love, truth or money.’

‘Oh, but—’

‘Three Legs, or nothing. I’m going out on Truelove myself.’

‘Well, Deb won’t want to go, with Mary Crispin on the way. What about lending me Moonlighter?’

‘Oh, no!’ said Deborah, horrified into inhospitality. ‘And, Sally, don’t go hunting next week. The snowdrops are out, and—’

‘All right. I’ll take Three Legs, and if I’m brought home on a stretcher I suppose you won’t let it lie on your conscience,’ said Sally, ignoring the snowdrops. Her cousin grinned, and winked at his wife.

‘As Three Legs has never been known to risk even a two-foot furze-bush, there’s no danger that you’ll need a stretcher,’ he said. ‘You just give him his head. He’s old, but he’s useful because he knows all the gaps and gates. Talk to him nicely, and you’ll be in at the death all right. Will North was telling me that he’s made a very good false earth on Wyeman Hanger, and has had a vixen in it all winter. Besides, Three Legs won’t catch his feet in rabbit holes if they find over at Groaning Spinney, and that’s always something to be grateful for.’

‘There are five foxes at least in Coverdale Woods,’ said Mrs Bradley.

‘Who said so?’

‘Will North, of course. Is there anything Will doesn’t know?’

‘Yes. He doesn’t know who committed the murders,’ said Sally. ‘And what were you all talking about so busily when I came in?’

‘Young Emming and two students,’ said Jonathan.

‘Good heavens! What on earth can they see in him?’

‘Oh, it wasn’t like that,’ said Deborah. ‘It was something he made.’

‘Well, it couldn’t have been a daisy chain at this time of year. What was it?’