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HATCHERIES: LANGLEY PRAIRIE

Page Twenty-six

might have plausibly explained that the eccentic owner had died abroad and left him the property.

With the arrival of young Kate Cranwell, all Dougal’s predatory in- stincts were aroused. Whatever de- veloped, it was too much for Mrs. Dougal who, as we have seen, could put up with quite a bit—Miss Booty for instance.

Whatever it was, Mrs. Dougal had had enough, and she left Moat Farm a month later. ‘Left’ as Samuel Pepys would remark, “to live under the protection of a gentleman.” In other words, she went to live as the common-law wife of a day laborer named Killick. Soon after the couple moved to Wales.

A Divorce Action

Then Dougal did something that proved that his judgment didn’t match his penmanship. He started a divorce action against his wife. That, had he only known it, was the turning point in his career.

But he was apparently carefree; and in due course when he got some divorce papers to serve on Killick and Mrs. Dougal he made the trip to Wales to serve them. And just to make things more interesting he took along Kate Cranwell’s older sister, Eliza— to help serve the papers.

Kate Cranwell worked for Dougal for eight months, then left for her home in the village. Four months later she presented Dougal with a daughter. Dougal ignored her existence. A month later, Kate went to court and got an affiliation order against Dougal. By this time, Kate’s successor at Moat Farm (who had only been there four months) was stricken with the knowledge that she was indebted to Dougal for more than her wages.

But these demonstrations of Dougal’s ardour were not going un- noticed; Mrs. Dougal and Kate Cran- well were putting two and two to- gether; and when tackled by the minds of jealous women, this simple little mathematical exercise can as- sume extraordinary proportions. They

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were beginning to think that Miss Holland hadn’t gone abroad; that she was concealed as a prisoner some- where, or maybe something worse had befallen her.

“Hell Hath No Fury Like a Women Scorned”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” is another adage that breezy Mr. Dougal should have pasted in his hat.

Now that he was feeling important, he made another false step; he con- tested Kate Cranwell’s affiliation order. Some obstinate or perverse streak caused him to contest the girl’s right to support for his child. He didn’t forsee that when he contested the matter in the local court, there would be some argument over his ability to pay, the amount of his in- come. Naturally he couldn’t divulge where it all came from.

“What about your army pension?” quizzed the girl’s counsel.

Dougal had to admit that it had been discontinued, cut off. Cut off, well because he had a little brush with the law seven years ago—in fact he had served 12 months for forging a cheque. And, as is done in these cases, the War Office ceased paying a pension to a convicted felon. It was disconcerting to have these things come up now. The country squire was beginning to flounder a little as the past slowly crept round him. It was later than he thought. But this was only the beginning.

In England there exists an official called the King’s Proctor; he is a curious medieval link between Church and State and it is his function to investigate, on behalf of the Crown, the background of those intent on using the Courts to sunder their Church vows. And the King’s Proctor, at this period of Dougal’s career, sent a mild mannered little detective named Giles to the district of Claver- ing, with precise instructions to find out all he could about Mr. Samuel Herbert Dougal, the plaintiff in Dougal versus Dougal.

Quiet Mr. Giles, with his bowler hat and umbrella, peering through a pair of gold-rimmed nose glasses, looked as unlike Nemesis as it is possible to be. But he spent an in- teresting week poking around Claver- ing and the adjoining villages, listen- ing to gossip, and buying pints of

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