But Nasmyth detained us a second more. His hesitation was at an end. There was a sudden new light in his face.
"Was I?" he cried. "Then I'll make it two hundred, and damn the odds!"
Raffles was a thoughtful man as we went to our seats. He saw nobody, would acknowledge no remark. Neither did he attend to the cricket for the first half-hour after lunch; instead, he eventually invited me to come for a stroll on the practice ground, where, however, we found two chairs aloof from the fascinating throng.
"I am not often sorry, Bunny, as you know," he began. "But I have been sorry since the interval. I've been sorry for poor old Nipper Nasmyth. Did you see the idea of being popular dawn upon him for the first time in his life?"
"I did; but you had nothing to do with that, my dear man."
Raffles shook his head over me as our eyes met.
"I had everything to do with it. I tried to make him tell the meanest lie. I made sure he would, and for that matter he nearly did. Then, at the last moment, he saw how to hedge things with his conscience. And his second hundred will be a real gift."
"You mean under his own name?"
"And with his own free-will. My good Bunny, is it possible you don't know what I did with the hundred we drew from that bank!"
"I knew what you were going to do with it," said I. "I didn't know you had actually got further than the twenty-five you told me you were sending as your own contribution."