He pulled up and Lord Blair beckoned to the man.
Pyke resisted the summons for a second or two, then he slouched up to the dog-cart with his hands in his pockets.
"Good-morning, my man," said Lord Blair. "I hope you're none the worse for our little set-to?"
"I'm not the worse, and I sha'n't be," retorted Pyke, lifting his evil eyes for a moment to the handsome face then fixing them on the last button of Lord Blair's waistcoat.
"That's all right," said Lord Blair. "I see you've got a bruise or two still left," and he laughed. "And I dare say I have. Well, here is some ointment for yours," and he held out some silver.
Pyke opened his hand, and his fingers closed over it.
"That's all right," said Blair again, cheerfully. "We part friends, I hope?"
"Yes, we part friends," said Pyke, but the expression of his face would have suited "We part enemies" equally well.
"Well, we shall meet again, I dare say," said Blair. "Good-morning."
"Yes, we shall meet again," said the man, and as he spoke he shot a vindictive glance at Blair's face. "Oh, yes, my lord, we shall meet again," he snarled as the dog-cart drove on. "And it will be my turn then. Ointment, eh! It will be a powerful ointment as 'ud do you any good when I've done with you!"