"Exactly. Then I think we had better part. Take my advice, and don't—watch for rabbits any more! Go home and rest until your friend sends you word that the time has come to pay back old scores. When he does so, well—be ready, and strike home!"
"I will!" Pyke declared, setting his teeth.
Austin Ambrose flung his cigarette away.
"Poaching is a hard trade," he murmured, looking up at the sky, which shone blue as a turquois through the trees. "One should pity the poor fellow who is driven to it, rather than condemn him. There, my poor man, take this small coin and find some honest work. You are strong and able, get some employment. Believe me, honesty is the best policy!" And he held out a sovereign.
Pyke took it, examined it, and put it in his pocket. But he stood still, waiting like a well-trained hound, for further orders.
Suddenly Austin Ambrose raised his hand and pointed to the road.
"Go!" he said sternly.
Pyke started, just as a dog would start, fingered his fur cap, and muttering, "Yes, guv'nor, yes," disappeared.
Austin Ambrose remained seated for some minutes, his brows knitted, his eyes fixed on the ground, then he murmured:
"Yes, I shall win this! Everything goes with me! Everything! It is a bold game, but I shall win it! A man gets all the trump cards dealt him, or breaks the bank at faro, once in a lifetime; it is his one chance! This is mine! Even this country clown makes one. Yes, I shall win, and then, Violet! and then——"