"Hum!" said the Major, rubbing his chin and staring, whereat the prisoner, scowling sullenly, turned away.
"Ha!" said the Major. "Sirrah, 'tis a fair day for walking I think, therefore, an you be so minded—walk!"
"D'ye mean you'll let me—go?" demanded the prisoner.
"Aye!"
"Free?"
"There's the door!"
The prisoner sprang to his feet, brushed the hay from his rough and stained garments, glanced from his deliverer to the glory of the morning and stepped out into the sunlight.
"You were wiser to avoid Sir Oliver Rington's neighbourhood, and here's somewhat to aid you on your way."
So saying, the Major strode off and left the poacher staring down at the gold coins in his palm.
The Major wandered thoughtfully along box-bordered paths, past marble fauns and nymphs; between hedges of clipped yew and so to the rose-garden, ablaze with colour and fragrant with bloom. In the midst was a time-worn sundial set about with marble seats and here the Major leaned to muse awhile and so came upon a quaint-lettered posy graven upon the dial which ran as follows: