"Oh, you little pearl!" burbled Screw, almost speechless with joy.
The match was won—and by more than a margin. Billy and the last man knocked up twenty-eight runs between them, and of which Billy made twenty. Windsor found themselves up against a most unlooked-for defeat.
It was almost dark when the youngsters had changed and were ready for the char-à-banc which would carry them back to Deepwater.
"Well, we did it!" said Martin to Silver, as they sat in the vehicle. "We did it, old boy!"
"And young Faraday's come on wonderfully," returned Silver. "Where is he, by the way? Seems to me all the others are here now. What's keeping him?"
But Billy would have found a good deal of trouble in returning to the char-à-banc. After he had dressed, he was met at the door by a grimy-looking youngster, who, however, said that a friend of Billy's wished to see him.
"He's an old bloke," said the youth, and Billy wondered who the dickens it could be. Some obscure acquaintance, he imagined, who would talk rot about how finely he had played....
A motor-car was waiting in the gloom at the back of the pavilion, and after the glare of her headlights Billy found it difficult to recognize the man in the tonneau. He came forward questioningly.
"My dear boy, how are you?" said a strange voice.
"I'm afraid—" began Billy, and then gasped. For the man bent suddenly forward and gripped him fiercely by the throat!