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Across the island, another man stood watching the suns rays dance across the land. Old Samuel Harrow, one of the St Albans numerous small holder sheep farmers, strode through the tall thistles and marvelled as the light suddenly burst from the clouds to touch down and pass across the field below him where his sheep stood, each suddenly lit like stars against the night. He smiled and passed his eyes over his flock, counting them.
As the sky darkened again, he frowned and began counting again. This time his face grew grave, and he began to make his way down into the field. There were four sheep missing. He made his way through the flock towards a nearby copse of trees.
The trees were the only place the missing sheep could be.


Bailey spoke to de Hogue in the kitchen first, telling him what the letter had said.
“I thought as much” de Hogue said with a bitter twist to his lips. “No one on the mainland cares about some peasant girl from the island. All they care about is their gold.”
“Well I care about the gold as well” Bailey replied in an indignant whisper, “But Gods teeth! I’ll not let some ruffian slaughter an innocent girl and get away with it!”
“She was with child” de Hogue replied. He watched Baileys eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in anger.
“How do you know this?”
“Annie Sheppard told me.” He replied. “You’d forgotten her brother, so I went to see him and he took me back to see her. She doesn’t live very far from here.”
Bailey listened with a bowed head as de Hogue told him what had happened. He nodded imperceptibly as de Hogue described the sabre, and looked up with a raised eye brow as he heard about John Sheppard’s reaction to the news of the pregnancy.
“It’s always the same with these little isolated communities” he muttered darkly. “Every one watching every one else, and a mess of little grubby secrets.”
De Hogue asked what Doctor Farrell had said and upon hearing the name of the HMS Anson, he muttered, “Aye, Howard’s ship. I guess he’s drowned then.”
“Who is Howard?” Bailey asked as he rose to his feet.
“Just an old ship mate” de Hogue evaded the question with practiced ease. They both passed back into the front room where Arkwright and Melchior were still sitting.
“Right then Gentlemen” Bailey smiled broadly. “Now that we are all here and dry, let’s discuss what we know about Bartholomew Thatcher and how we’re going to put a stop to his capers!”


That night, the talk in the village was muted and filled with rumours. Old Man Harrow had come in to the Old George and after a silent pint or two at the bar had begun shouting about his dead sheep. Several of the other farmers had announced similar fatalities amongst their sheep, and soon the whole public house was filled with angry shouts and accusations. The few fishermen present had spread the word to the Cracked Bell where the majority of fishermen drank, and soon the news had filtered out to every house in the village. Only the four men representing the law went ignorant of the news. No one thought to tell them what had happened.Samuel Harrow left the inn as soon as it became apparent that no one was going to do any thing about his dead sheep. Slapping his money down on the counter, he pushed his way out into the dark, and slightly drunk, he staggered off home to get his gun.