149- Rough Shoot

You Finding life Robert dull dreaming again of exotic places Wishing you were somewhere else We offer you escape Escape with us now to England as the story of an innocent man caught up in a murderous web of international intrigue as Jeffrey household tells it in his exciting new novel a rough shoot Yet it happened on an autumn evening so silent and peaceful that no one could have a thought

of human violence. And now I was walking home from Mr. Bloxon's farm in Dorset, on which I had rented the hunting rights, the rough shooting for the season. As I approached our house where my wife and children were waiting supper, I took a last anxious look back over my shoulder, across the meadow dotted with clumps of thorn, gorse,

Bremble, stretching away until it vanished in a mist of grey and green. And then I hurried on into the house glad for its cozy warmth and feeling of security. What kept you so long, Roger?

I'm sorry, certainly. Where are the boys? You've had their supper. I've sent them to bed. You must be starved. I'm afraid I'm not hungry. What I need is a spot of whiskey. I thought you were the mother.

I don't...right now I had to tell you my dear. Tell me what? What is it? Well...I...I...I...I'm there on the shoot. Just a...with a while ago. Roger, what's happened? Oh, Cecily, I...I can hardly believe it myself now.

Tell me what happened? I killed a man. It's true Cecily. I...I killed a man and then I drew his body in the summer. Roger! It's true, Cecily. But you couldn't have... I don't believe it.