The captain smiled sympathetically at Will. ‘It’s a hard row, keeping a young man out of trouble,’ he said. ‘But we’re all friends here. We’ll put the deeds on the table if that’s your wish. But we’ll have a gentleman’s agreement to buy them back at a nominal sum. No one is here to be ruined. All anyone seeks is a little sport.’

Will unbent slightly. ‘I don’t mind games of skill,’ he said stiffly. ‘Games of skill between gentlemen for a nominal sum.’

‘Slow coach!’ I said easily. ‘Captain, get me a sheet of your paper and I’ll write out the deeds of my land fair. We’ll put them on the table with Lord Perry’s farm and they can be the stake.’

‘I’ll put my hundred guineas in,’ Will said, warming to the game.

‘Dammit so will I!’ said Bob Redfern as if he had suddenly decided. ‘I could do with a little place in the country!’

Will checked at once. ‘The properties to be re-sold at once to their rightful owners,’ he said.

Bob Redfern smiled. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘For a nominal sum. This is but a jest. It adds zest.’

‘For God’s sake, Will, we’re in polite society now,’ I hissed at him. ‘Don’t count the change so!’

Will nodded abashed, and watched as I wrote out a brief description with a line-drawing of what was, in fact, Robert Gower’s farm. I chose it on purpose. It looked real. My da always used to say, when you’re getting a gull, tell him a story as straight as you can. I thought of him as I drew in the river which flowed near the bottom field.

‘Pretty place,’ the captain said approvingly.

‘A fair stake, for a jest,’ I said.

Bob Redfern leaned forward and dealt the cards with his swift white hands. I dropped my eyelashes and watched him like a hawk.

I was not a card-sharper, I was a horse-trainer, a petty thief, a poacher. I could call up a show or ride a horse for money. I could take bets, make up a book, drug a bad horse into steadiness, or ride a wild pony into the ground for a quick sale. Here, in this London club, with a man’s hat pushed back on my forehead, sprawled in my chair like a flushed youth, I was in the grip of men who cheated at cards for a living, and for a handsome living. I was the pigeon here. The little skills I had learned at Da’s knee would not preserve me from a thorough plucking if I stayed too long. Whatever I was going to do I had best do quick.