Striding to the dresser, the farmer poured two drinks. ‘I knew there would come a day when she’d had enough of me. I couldn’t let that happen, could I?’ He handed Bob his drink. ‘Not when she owned every inch of land I ride across…’ He looked up. ‘Even this house… been in her family for generations.’

‘You had to have her done away with, guv.’ Bob Morris sipped his drink. ‘No one could blame you for that.’

‘Here’s to you, my man, and a good job done.’ The farmer raised his glass, then, beckoning Morris to sit, he laughed. ‘Lucky the Higgins woman turned up when she did… saved you the task of burying my poor wife.’

‘Have they set a date for the trial?’ Growing merry with the wine, Morris congratulated himself. ‘There’ll be no doubt about the outcome,’ he promised. ‘There are people baying for her blood… they’re all for breaking into the jail and hanging her on the spot. Take it from me, guv, the authorities daren’t do anything but string her up, or they’ll be made to take her place.’

‘Quite so. But the sooner she’s hanged the better for us all.’

‘What about the boy? He knows she didn’t do it.’

‘Ah well, that won’t matter, will it? You see, I’ve got friends who will make sure he never grows up on English soil.’

‘Ship him out, is that what you have in mind?’

The farmer grinned wickedly. ‘Something of the sort.’

Outside, Bridget was in fear of her life. If she was caught here she would be done away with – she was certain of it. ‘So, Ruthie didn’t get this far, thank God,’ she murmured. If she had, there would have been mention of it. She had to tell the authorities… Fanny didn’t do the murder. They’d have to let her go… Billy too.

Backing off, while keeping her eyes on the two men, Bridget told herself, ‘Get away, Bridget lass. Quietly now.’

Being too careful, and too intent on watching them, she didn’t see the fallen tree behind her. With a cry she fell backwards, knocked senseless when her head hit the upturned root.

When she came round, they were standing over her. Her arms were spread out, tied by the wrists to the stable wall. ‘Ah!’ The farmer was smiling. ‘Awake at last. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but we can’t let you go now, can we? And we couldn’t possibly kill you before we knew how much you had heard, or whether there was anyone else with you.’ Prodding her shoulder with a stick, he demanded to know, ‘Was there anyone else here with you?’

Defiant, Bridget refused to answer.

Another prod, this time more spiteful. ‘I asked… was there anyone with you?’

Again there was no answer. Instead she stared him out. Stepping forward he grabbed the horse-whip from the stable door. ‘Stubborn little bastard, aren’t you?’ he sneered. ‘Well, let’s see how brave you are.’ Throwing the whip to Bob, who had stood in the shadows all this time, he ordered, ‘You deal with her. I haven’t the stomach for it.’