A bird sang somewhere from deeper in the garden. She listened to it, picturing with sorrow all the lives her husband had extinguished at the expense of his sadistic hunting trips. He had gone on many hunting trips over the past years, but whether he had called them such on forty-seven separate occasions eluded her. He did not like to leave the Manor too frequently for long periods of time—this had to mean he sometimes hunted more than one at once.