‘He’ll have seen you, love. Always got his eye on a pretty lass, if you’ll forgive me saying it. Got himself in bother as a younger man. Too young to fight in the real war but he was in Korea. Came back a bit damaged. Told us one night that the ladies over there weighed no more than a kiddie. Couldn’t do a damn thing to stop you – even those who tried to.’ He raised his hands, aware that this was probably no topic for my company. ‘Sorry love, mouth running away with me. Don’t be worrying, you’re a married woman, which means you’re not his type. And if you ask me he prefers fighting to courting. Had a couple of fiancées but he’ll never go up the aisle. Wouldn’t get past the wedding guests without seeing somebody who needed a punch. We had some of the Irish in a few months back. Good lads. Maybe a bit full of themselves but no harm. Their accents upset Pike. He asked one of them to keep it down and they apologized. Then the volume started going back up again. Pike doesn’t ask twice. Took the stick he uses for killing trout and clubbed Paddy on the back of the neck so hard it’s a miracle his skull didn’t break. Tore through the lad’s mates like they were dolls. He’s a devil when his temper’s up. Chivers would have needed a vanload of coppers to take him in and even then I think he’d have been too scared to try.’

‘What happened?’ I asked and in my mind I started counting the number of steps from Pike’s front door to the site of the broken crypt.

‘Nowt happened, love. Paddy went home with a bandage on. We sent a bottle of whisky to the house he was staying in with his mates. Sent the Heron to have a little word with Pike.’

‘The Heron?’ I asked, confused.

He smiled at me. ‘You don’t know anybody do you? Heron’s what we call Trevor Halpin. Used to be a gilly at the castle, looking after his lordship’s lakes. Big lad. Didn’t take to being talked down to. Not an ounce of anger in him but has a good sense of right and wrong and knows when a person deserves a thump. Probably the only person who can keep Pike from being Pike, though if I were the Heron I wouldn’t sleep well, knowing that mad bastard were holding a grudge. He lives where he pleases. Old barns and empty cottages you wouldn’t keep pigs in. Helps himself to his lordship’s salmon and takes it personally if any bugger kills a deer with owt other than a clean shot. And he can tek Pike.’

‘That’s why you call him the Heron.’

Stubbs grinned. ‘Can tell you’ve been to university.’