It was necessary to keep on good terms with one or two publicans who acted as "receivers" of the poached game of the neighbourhood.

And it seemed to him that Westall pursued him into these low dens.

The keeper--big, burly, prosperous--would speak to him with insolent patronage, watching him all the time, or with the old brutality, which Hurd dared not resent.

Only in his excitable dwarf's sense hate grew and throve, very soon to monstrous proportions.

Westall's menacing figure darkened all his sky for him.