They raked the poulterers in three market towns round
about, but all gave a very good and straight account of their birds; and
the mystery interested us a lot, for, of course, Little Silver had its
doubtful customers like every other place.
And what Joseph Ford had heard, with a smothered laugh or two, was the
name of his fast friend, Teddy Pegram, along with the disappearance of the
Oakshott game. He gave no sign, but it hit him with a good bit of force,
because he'd marked one or two things himself that made him restless, and
he knew Teddy didn't pretend any great sorrow to think the pheasants were
being stole. The man loved sport, and farmers round about let him shoot
their rabbits and partridges also; but he knew very well pheasants were
different, though he always argued against all game laws. So Joseph
counted to give Teddy a word in season on the quiet, and he done so.
"I heard your name whispered in the public-house a few nights agone," he
said, "and I didn't like it too well, Pegram, because they named it along
with this here poaching. They little thought I'd heard, of course, and I
didn't undeceive 'em, but--there 'tis--and I'd avoid the appearance of
evil if I was you and bide in on moony nights, which we know very well you
do not."
The other showed much surprise to hear such a thing. He was playing along
with Joey and the little dog at the time, and teaching the puppy to learn
tricks.
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