"Never say die," I sed, when we wos reckonin' up our losses. "Luck must turn. Maxwell don't play a bit better nor you or me. I'll git all my money back, and a bit over, afore I've done with 'im."
It turned out that way 'cause it wos part of the plot.
We'd jest come to Liverpool, and it wos bitter weather. It was snowin' all day and freezin' all night, and the racin' 'ad to be postponed.
"We'll finish the job 'ere," sed Maxwell.
So as to keep ourselves to ourselves a 'ouse 'ad been taken near the docks; it wos only 'arf furnished, but that didn't matter. Morgan took it for a month on trial, and give the name o' Mollison. The agent arst for a reference, and one wos sent 'im from London, I don't know by who. We took possession without anybody noticin' us. There wos a room on the fust flore pritty well stocked with chairs, tables, sideboard, lamps, lookin' glass over the mantelpiece, and all that. We smuggled in grog, and wine, and cigars, and when we built up a big fire the room looked cosy and comfortable. We used to go there after dinner, and smoke, and drink, and play. One night I told Louis that I meant to have a dash at Maxwell single-'anded.
"We ain't lucky as pardners," I sed, "I'm goin' to tackle 'im alone."
By that time Louis 'ad dropped a matter of three thousand quid, accordin' to 'is reckonin', and 'e wos mad to git it back. I never found out where the money went to; Maxwell wos always swearin' 'e 'adn't a shillin'. I'll do 'im the justice to say that 'e threw it away right and left at the races, but 'e never showed us any account of 'ow 'e got rid of it.
"Yer'll give me my revenge, yer'll give me my revenge!" That wos allus Louis's cry when 'e settled up.
"Give yer yer revenge!" said Maxwell. "In course we will. We don't want yer tin."
And perhaps the next time Louis 'ud win two or three pound. That wos the way 'e wos led on. Maxwell knew 'ow to play 'is fish.