In fact, such was De Chevron's power of persuasion, that he at last, by
dint of subtle arguments, made irresistible by the courteous grace by
which they were set off, and, moreover, making it appear that he himself
could have no object in giving such advice, that he at length succeeded
in making the pedlar believe that he was a very ill-used man, and that
as fortune had been so niggardly to him, considering his merits, whilst
she squandered her favours on the undeserving, that it was quite
excusable in him; nay, it was his duty, and nothing more than what he
owed to himself to seek his own fortune by appropriating a portion of
that superfluous wealth unjustly held back from him by the capricious
goddess and given into unworthy hands. It was not difficult for De Chevron to ignite the already too
inflammable cupidity of the pedlar. A hint was enough. From that hour
the watch was doomed. Seeing that his words had had their effect, he
applauded the determination of the pedlar, and added that though he had
no interest in mixing himself up in such affairs, yet he liked to
encourage enterprising men, and he himself would furnish him with the
means of making his booty doubly sure, and without which he represented
it would be madness to make the attempt. He showed him that John Archer always carried a gun with him, that he
was a hot-tempered young fellow, and would shoot him as soon as look at
him if he attempted and failed. "One must use all one's resources, in case of need," he added, and
suggested that the securest way to obtain the watch would be to
administer to Archer a glass of drugged wine, which he might easily
induce the unsuspecting youth to accept. This drug (which De Chevron had
in his possession and which was probably concocted by his friend and
ally, Madge Mandrake) produced instantaneous sleep for full five hours
on the person partaking of it. It was agreed then that the pedlar should
carry in his coat pocket a bottle of the said drugged wine, together
with a wine glass, that towards evening he should wander about a certain
unfrequented road which bordered on Lord Edgedown's estate, and near
which Archer was sure to be at a certain hour. Should he catch sight of John Archer, he was to accost him civilly,
invite him to converse, then after a time produce the bottle and glass
and say that he had some dozens of very choice wine which if he (John
Archer) could only induce his lordship to buy that it would be the
making of his fortune. He would then pour out a glassful, which he would
offer the young gamekeeper to try himself; should he refuse, he was to
press him so urgently that he would at length be forced to comply. When Archer should have once tossed off the glass, Mike would wait some
moments until he was in a perfectly sound sleep, when he would be
enabled to steal not only his watch and what else he might have in his
pockets, but also his gun. The pedlar jumped at the proposition, and armed with his bottle of
drugged wine, he set off the selfsame evening for the spot agreed upon,
followed at a distance by De Chevron himself, just to give the alarm, as
he suggested, by a sharp shrill whistle, should anyone approach to
interrupt their design. Backed up by the help of De Chevron, the pedlar knew no fear, nor did it
ever enter his head, so blinded was he by greed, that De Chevron could
possibly have any object in thus lending him his help. The evening arrived. It was now about a week after De Chevron's supposed
departure, and so close had been his confinement to the house all this
time, that I do not believe there was a soul in all the village but
believed that he was absent on business in London at the time. As the evening agreed upon drew in, De Chevron, disguising himself as
best he might in a large loose cloak that he never had been seen to wear
and a hat unlike that he was known by in the village, set out in the
dusk towards the lonely road, following the pedlar at a considerable
distance. The pedlar advanced towards the spot singing. "Good morrow, Master Archer," he said, as the young gamekeeper made his
appearance from behind a hedge, "and how does the world go for you? Easily enough, eh?" "Well enough, for the matter of that," replied Archer, carelessly. "Ah! you lucky dog, your bread and butter's cut for life. Wouldn't I
like to be in your shoes without doing you any harm!" said the pedlar. "Would you?" laughed Archer. "Why, I'm sure you have no reason to
complain of your lot. A pedlar's is a good business." "Well, I don't exactly complain," replied the pedlar, with proud
humility; "but--but----"

"But," interrupted Archer, "we all like to be a little better off than
we are. Isn't that it?" asked the gamekeeper, with a laugh. "Well, I dare say you are not far wrong, Archer my boy," said the
pedlar, wheedlingly. "It's natural you know, ain't it? By the way,
Johnny old fellow, do you think you could do an old friend a great
favour? It won't cost you anything. I'm not going to ask you to lend me
any money." "Well," said John, "what is it?" "Why, the fact is," said Mike, "that I have got some fine stuffs that
will do for curtains or to cover chairs with. I've got carpets,
mattresses, and I don't know what all. Besides which I have got some
excellent wine, superfine quality, which if you could induce your master
to buy, my fortune would be made." "It would be useless," answered John Archer. "His lordship never buys
either stuffs or wine from country hawkers, but has up everything from
London." "Well, I suppose he would, you know, a great man like him. Still, when a
good thing comes in your way, something unique, like this wine of mine,
why, it would be madness to let it slip through your fingers without
even giving it a trial. Look here now." Here he produced the bottle. "This wine I am in the habit of always carrying about with me as a
sample. Here, just taste it. It'll do your heart good." Here he poured
out a glass. "Thank you, no," said Archer. "Nonsense, man," said the pedlar, "what are you afraid of?" "Nothing," replied Archer, "only I don't care about it, thank you." "Drink, drink, man. What's the matter with you?" "Drink it yourself, I won't rob you of it," said John. "Oh, as to that, Jack my boy, I'm not niggardly in offering my wine,
especially when I meet old friends, you know, besides, I am interested
in your tasting this, because, you see, when you have once drunk this
little glassful you will be better able to speak well of it to your
master, and he _might_ honour me so far as to purchase a dozen. But,
interest apart, take a glass for old friendship's sake, or I shall take
offence. Come, no excuse; here you are!" John Archer, wearied out by the pedlar's importunities, could resist no
longer, and suspecting nothing, tossed off the glass at a gulp. "Good, indeed," he had barely time to say, as he gave back the glass. "Gramercy! how is this? My head swims. I--I----"

He was unable to finish his sentence, but fell like a log to the ground.