‘Anyway, you came here for something,’ said Jarvis. ‘I expect you’re busy with more important things than me.’

‘Mr Jarvis, you told me that you used to let the dogs run in the woods at one time. Why did you stop them doing that?’

‘It wasn’t me that stopped them. The estate put new fences up. That was what stopped the dogs going into the woods.’

‘And when was this exactly?’

‘Oh, I dunno. The year before last, I suppose.’

‘Can we take a look at the new fence?’

‘If you like. There’s not much to see. It’s only a fence.’

Jarvis led him down the path through the garden and entered the paddock by a side gate. Two of the dogs ran up to them immediately, their tongues lolling and their eyes rolling with excitement. Jarvis held out his hand, though he still wore his work gloves.

‘Now then, Feckless,’ he said, rubbing one dog’s ears. ‘That’s Aimless you’ve got there.’

Aimless had his nose practically glued to Cooper’s boots. The dog sniffed like a bloodhound, almost inhaling the trailing ends of his laces. Cooper hardly dared to lift his feet, for fear of kicking the dog in its inquisitive muzzle.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Jarvis, noticing his hesitation. ‘Where there’s no sense, there’s no feeling.’

The old fencing on the eastern side of the stream was broken in several places and full of holes, more than big enough for one of Tom Jarvis’s dogs to get through, or even Jarvis himself. But a hundred feet above it, near the crest of the slope, was a new fence made of stout timber posts and weldmesh, topped by a strand of barbed wire. It was as if the estate had drawn in its boundaries, abandoning the new access land. In other areas, the national park had been busy putting in new stiles to provide access, but it hadn’t been necessary here.

‘No way through there,’ said Cooper.

‘I wouldn’t like to try climbing it either,’ said Jarvis.

‘When they put this up, did they re-fence the whole estate?’

‘No. Where the grounds of the hall border on to roads, there are stone walls. Ten feet high, those are. They were built a long time ago, to keep the common folk out. In other spots, there’s stock fencing, and the farmers make sure that’s in good nick. No, it seemed to be the woods they were bothered about. Didn’t like the idea of anybody wandering in and enjoying themselves, I reckon.’

‘Did people used to go into the woods?’

‘Oh, aye. There’s a public footpath runs at the top of my land. It goes over the top and back down into Miller’s Dale. But if you knew where the fence was down, you could go off into the woods. I saw them now and then. At night time, you know.’

‘Poachers?’