" As we struck across the ridges and hollows of the undulating terrain, our attention was caught by a slight rustling in a clump of long grass to our left. In a few strides we had drawn level, and pushed aside the straggling stalks, to reveal the quivering body of a rabbit, on its side, oddly contorted. Ralph bent to examine it, and its fright became even greater; there was agony in its staring eyes. Gently, he tried to pick it up, only to withdraw his hand with a moan of disgust; moist and warm redness stained his fingers, and his face became set and sullen. Very little additional examination was required to establish that the creature had been shot by one of the Hall’s marauding parties, but that the job had been botched, and the victim had managed to effect a temporary escape to sink down here, and drain away to oblivion. It was remotely possible that the wound was the work of some more instinctive predator, but by far the greater likelihood rested with an incompetent marksman. As we watched, the animal began to succumb with paroxysms of twitching, and life fled from it very shortly.

‘Is it worth our fee, then, to work for people who enjoy this kind of thing?’ I enquired, bitterly, after we had walked a little way in silence. Ralph stared straight ahead.

‘I have accepted her terms, and she must accept mine. I only said I would look into the cause of her “little difficulty”. I did not say I would deal with it. I shall keep my word—exactly so. "

― Mark Valentine , Herald of the Hidden & Other Stories