Jack blubbed in his thanks, for he was really run down.
"Keep up your pecker, Bourne. Borrowing isn't a crime, quite. When do you want the cash?"
"By to-morrow, please," said Jack.
"Call in for it, then, before afternoon school, and you can pay me back as you say. I suppose the sharks have got hold of you."
"Yes," said Jack, with perfect truth, though he only knew of one, and he went to bed that night blessing Acton. His gorge rose when he thought of his fleecing, and at this he almost blubbed with rage as he blubbed with gratitude to Acton.
That interesting Shylock, Raffles, was at the farm confidently waiting young Bourne and his coins, and when he saw the young innocent bowling furiously down the road, he sighed with satisfaction. His dream was true.
"Write out the receipt."
"I've already done it, Mr. Bourne."
"Then here's your blackmail."
"Correct to the figure, sir, and I think it's a settle, nice and comfortable for all parties."