Page 109 of Marry in Secret
Ambrose grimaced. “I was, as a matter of fact. The gamekeeper told me our friends have bribed a couple of the local lads to dig up a badger’s sett.”
“A badger’s sett?” Thomas frowned. “For baiting, you mean?”
“I’m afraid so.” He screwed up his face in a distasteful expression. “Cornelius organized a badger baiting here last year. I despise such sports, as you know, but—”
“It’s not sport, it’s carnage. Setting a pack of dogs onto an innocent animal. It’s obscene.”
Ambrose’s expression softened. “You always did like badgers, didn’t you?”
“Where is this sett?”
“I can deal with it, Thomas.”
“No, I will. It’s my responsibility.” And he doubted Cornelius would listen to Ambrose. “So where will I find this sett?”
Ambrose thought for a minute. “Remember the old hide you and Gerald used to use?”
“At the edge of the clearing near the big old oak?” Thomas said, recalling a giant tree that was several hundred years old.
Ambrose nodded. “That’s the one. The sett is just near there. In fact, you could probably see it from the hide, though heaven knows what state that’s in after all these years.” He added thoughtfully, “I should probably have it pulled down. Don’t go into it, Thomas, I’m sure it’s dangerous.”
Thomas nodded. Animal baiting sickened him and the thought that Cornelius had dared to arrange anything of the sort without a word to Thomas—and onhisland, withhisbadger—had set his temper blazing. He grabbed his coat and hat and headed out.
He found the hide without any trouble; it had been a favorite haunt when he was a boy. It didn’t look in too bad a shape. He scouted around and found the sett. There was no evidence of digging. Good, they hadn’t caught the badger yet.
His cousin’s unlikely braving of the elements earlier was a dead giveaway; he’d be coming here this afternoon with the local boys to dig out the hapless sleeping badger.
Thomas would catch them in the act. Let Cornelius try to wriggle out of that.
He glanced at the hide. It didn’t look nearly as dangerous as Ambrose had said, but then Ambrose always had been the overly cautious type. Thomas opened the rickety door at the back and stepped inside. Dead leaves and cobwebs, mainly, and some ancient animal scat. Nothing to worry about.
The hide faced out to the clearing and gave an angled view of the location of the sett. There was even an old wooden box that would make a convenient, if grimy, seat.
He was about to settle down to wait when he decided it would be better to relieve himself first, rather than get caught short at an inconvenient moment. Cautiously, in case Cousin Cornelius was close by, he slipped from the hide, took himself to a nearby tree and began to unbutton his breeches.
CRASH!
Thomas whirled. The hide was no more; a huge branch had crashed down onto it, reducing it to a pile of splintered matchsticks.
He stared at it in shock. A moment earlier and he would have been inside it. Dead. Squashed like a beetle.
He heard a faint crunching sound in the distance. Footsteps? He looked around but saw nobody. He moved cautiously forward, skirting the fallen branch, looking upwardat the tree from which it had fallen. And saw a smooth cut with a jagged finish.
He examined the fallen branch and found a rope tied to it.
The accident was no accident. Tie a rope around a branch, then use a saw to cut the branch almost all the way through. Wait until Thomas was in the hide, then pull down on the rope, causing the last bit to break.
He swiveled around, scanning the surroundings, all senses alert. The culprit had to be lurking close by; they would have to remove the rope so it would look like an accident.
Cornelius knew how he felt about badger baiting. He’d set this whole thing up.
“Cornelius!” he roared. “Come out, you filthy coward.”
But only the wind answered.
Thomas stormed back to the house. “Where’s Cornelius?” he demanded as he entered the house. “Cornelius!”
Rose came running. “Thomas, what is it?”
