e living in the Manor House for a
generation, so the village children used the terrace for a playground,
and picked primroses in the woods; and the men thought they had a right
to snare a rabbit or shoot a pheasant in the chase. But the new owner
changed all this, hiding gins and spring-guns in the coverts, and nailing
up boards on the trees to say he would have the law of any that
trespassed. So he soon made enemies for himself, and before long had
everyone's hand against him. Yet he preferred his neighbour's enmity to
their goodwill, and went about to make it more bitter by getting himself
posted for magistrate, and giving out that he would put down the
contraband thereabouts. For no one round Moonfleet was for the Excise;
but farmers loved a glass of Schnapps that had never been gauged, and
their wives a piece of fine lace from France. And then came the affair
between the _Elector_ and the ketch, with David Block's death; and after
that they said it was not safe for Maskew to walk at large, and that he
would be found some day dead on the down; but he gave no heed to it, and
went on as if he had been a paid exciseman rather than a magistrate.

When I was a little boy the Manor woods were my delight, and many a sunny
afternoon have I sat on the terrace edge looking down over the village,
and munching red quarantines from the ruined fruit gardens. And though
this was now forbidden, yet the Manor had still a sweeter attraction to
me than apples or bird-batting, and that was Grace Maskew. She was an
only child, and about my own age, or little better, at the time of which
I am speaking. I knew her, because she went every day to the old
almshouses to be taught by the Reverend Mr. Glennie, from whom I also
received my schooling. She was tall for her age, and slim, with a thin
face and a tumble of tawny hair, which flew about her in a wind or when
she ran. Her frocks were washed and patched and faded, and showed more of
her arms and legs than the dressmaker had ever intended, for she was a
growing girl, and had none to look after her clothes. She was a favourite
playfellow with all, and an early choice for games of 'prisoner's base',
and she could beat most of us boys at speed. Thus, though we all hated
her father, and had for him many jeering titles among ourselves; yet we
never used an evil nickname nor a railing word against him when she was
by, because we liked her well.

There were a half-dozen of us boys, and as many gi