“Indeed, it passes near the old woodcutter’s hut.”
Damn these woods – they were as extensive and large as the bloody house. “I haven’t come across that either.”
“Oh. It’s off the summer bridleway. Follow the west path, and when you reach the large chestnut, follow the wall down into the hollow and you’ll reach it soon enough.”
“Thank you, Mr Risley. If you find anything…”
“You will be the first to know, Major.”
Lucas tipped his crumpled hat and mounted the horse.
The summer bridle path was easy to find, the hut slightly less so. It was in a dilapidated state: various slats were missing and the windows bare. The interior, he found, was equally unkempt, although the table was free of dirt, as though someone had recently used it. He supposed any poacher could have sheltered here, if they were desperate. Or could it have been used for another purpose?
The gloomy atmosphere of the hut caused him to shiver and he searched every corner for evidence. All he found was a small amount of blue material caught on a nail. The cloth was serviceable but not of a fine fabric. It could have belonged to a farmer’s trouser leg or a serving maid’s dress.
He left the dank hovel, letting the warm sun soak into his skin and bones. He’d thought these days of bullets flying past his ear were behind him, but then he’d thought the same of lust.
