‘Someone’s been hurt. One of the beaters. Not your brother, Ellen; it’s Tom Harker.’

Osbert had never particularly liked Tom Harker; it had always seemed impossible to walk down to the village, or to go into the Post Office for some acid drops or call at the Vicarage with a note or some extra Latin construe for Mr Fortescue, without meeting him walking with his long stride and his stick and his red handkerchief knotted round his neck and his thin collie dog.

‘Oh!’ he said, suddenly aghast. ‘Who will look after his dog if he’s dead?’

‘He’s not dead.’

‘Well, if he has to go to hospital then?’

‘Someone will, I’m sure. I’ll remind them. Go on, Osbert, do go home. I’ll go and find someone and make sure they look after the dog.’

‘Promise.’

‘I promise. Go on; run!’

Ellen took him by the arm and led him away, and the two of them continued their encumbered progress across the field. Cicely turned back towards the group standing at the edge of the wood.

‘It would be better to go home,’ said Tibor, who had followed her.

‘I said I would tell someone about the dog.’

‘We can send a message about the dog later.’

‘I said I would. I think I’d better. Don’t you bother; you go on home.’

‘Of course I won’t go on home. Why don’t you wait here and I will give the message to one of the keepers?’

‘It’s too cold to stand about.’

She had started walking and Tibor followed her reluctantly. The shoot having been called off, he would have preferred to go home; besides, he thought Sir Randolph might not be pleased to see his granddaughter disobeying his instructions and approaching a scene which for all Tibor knew might be unpleasant. In his view it would have been better to have let the wounded man be looked after by one or two of his own kind and to have carried on with the day’s sport. Accidents would happen, and the fact that it appeared that this had been an unlucky one in that the victim had been hit in a vulnerable spot did not alter the nature of the thing. A beater had been hit, that was all; it was not unknown.

As they approached the group standing round the prostrate Tom they were met by Minnie, Ida and Bob Lilburn, who were walking towards them.

‘We are all to go home,’ said Ida firmly. ‘Come along, Cicely.’

‘Yes, I will come. I must give a message to Glass and then I’ll come at once.’

Ida looked displeased and as if she might insist.

Minnie put her gloved hand over Cicely’s arm and said, ‘It is most unfortunate, my dear. The poor man is badly hurt and your grandfather is very angry. It seems that someone took a shot they should not have taken. But still it is not for us to judge these things. The best thing we can do is to go home and be very calm.’