“Certainly he ought,” said Dr. Nupper.  “If he didn’t feel satisfied with what his lordship offered him, why couldn’t he ask his lordship to refer the matter to a couple of farmers who understood it?”

“It’s the spirit of the thing,” said Mr. Ribbs, from his place on the sofa.  “It’s a hodious spirit.”

“That’s just it, Mr. Ribbs,” said Harry Stubbings.  “It’s all meant for opposition.  Whether it’s shooting or whether it’s hunting, it’s all one.  Such a chap oughtn’t to be allowed to have land.  I’d take it away from him by Act of Parliament.  It’s such as him as is destroying the country.”

“There ain’t many of them hereabouts, thank God!” said the landlord.

“Now, Mr. Twentyman,” said Stubbings, who was anxious to make friends with the gentleman-farmer, “you know what land can do, and what land has done, as well as any man.  What would you say was the real damage done to them two wheat-fields by his lordship’s game last autumn?  You saw the crops as they were growing, and you know what came off the land.”

“I wouldn’t like to say.”

“But if you were on your oath, Mr. Twentyman?

“Was there more than seven-and-sixpence an acre lost?”

“No, nor five shillings,” said Runciman.

“I think Goarly ought to take his lordship’s offer—­if you mean that,” said Twentyman.

Then there was a pause, during which more drink was brought in, and pipes were re-lighted.  Everybody wished that Mr. Masters might be got to say that he would not take the case, but there was a delicacy about asking him.  “If I remember right he was in Rufford Gaol once,” said Runciman.

“He was let out on bail and then the matter was hushed up somehow,” said the attorney.

“It was something about a woman,” continued Runciman.  “I know that on that occasion he came out an awful scoundrel.”

“Don’t you remember,” asked Botsey, “how he used to walk up and down the covert-side with a gun, two years ago, swearing he would shoot the fox if he broke over his land?”

“I heard him say it, Botsey,” said Twentyman.  “It wouldn’t have been the first fox he’s murdered,” said the doctor.

“Not by many,” said the landlord.

“You remember that old woman near my place?” said Stubbings.  “It was he that put her up to tell all them lies about her turkeys.  I ran it home to him!  A blackguard like that!  Nobody ought to take him up.”

“I hope you won’t, Mr. Masters;” said the doctor.  The doctor was as old as the attorney, and had known him for many years.  No one else could dare to ask the question.

“I don’t suppose I shall, Nupper,” said the attorney from his chair.  It was the first word he had spoken since he had put down young Botsey.  “It wouldn’t just suit me; but a man has to judge of those things for himself.”

Then there was a general rejoicing, and Mr. Runciman stood broiled bones, and ham and eggs, and bottled stout for the entire club; one unfortunate effect of which unwonted conviviality was that Mr. Masters did not get home till near twelve o’clock.  That was sure to cause discomfort; and then he had pledged himself to decline Goarly’s business.