The bar of the “White Hart,” Moretonhampstead, was full, and, in the atmosphere of smoke and beer, a buzz of sound went up from many throats. In one corner, round a table, men sat and laughed, but the object of their amusement did not share the fun. He was a powerful, bull-necked man with a clean-shorn face, grey whiskers, and dark eyes that shone brightly under pent-house brows, bushy and streaked with grey.…
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