Sturk would do well to reconsider his message.

Were _I_ in his shoes, I would not eat an egg or a gooseberry, or drink a glass of fair water from that stream, while he was in the country, for fear of _poison_! curse him! and to think of Sturk expecting to meet him, and walk with him, after such a message, together, as you and I do here.

Do you see that tree ?' It was a stout poplar, just a yard away from Irons's shoulder; and as Dangerfield pronounced the word 'tree,' his hand rose, and the sharp report of a pocket-pistol half-deafened Irons's ear.
'I say,' said Dangerfield, with a startling laugh, observing Irons wince, and speaking as the puff of smoke crossed his face, 'he'd lodge a bullet in the cur's heart, as suddenly as I've shot that tree;' the bullet had hit the stem right in the centre, 'and swear he was going to rob him.' Irons eyed him with a livid squint, but answered nothing.

I think he acquiesced in Dangerfield's dreadful estimate of Charles Archer's character.
'But we must give the devil his due; Charles can do a handsome thing sometimes.

You shall judge.