Gresley told his story. Flattered by Cullyngham's invitation, he had agreed to play picquet—a game with which he enjoyed only what may be called a domestic acquaintance—in the pavilion before lunch.
"I suppose we will play the usual club points?" Cullyngham had said.
"And like a blamed fool," continued Gresley, "I didn't like to let on that I didn't know what the usual club points were, but just nodded. I lost all the time, and when he added up at one o'clock I owed him five hundred points. He said I must have my revenge in the afternoon if it went on raining. Well, as you know, it did go on raining, and by the end of the day I was fifteen hundred points down. Then he told me, what I hadn't had the pluck to ask him, what we were playing for. He said that the ordinary club points were a fiver a hundred, and that I owed him seventy-five pounds."
"The d——d swine!" said Pip through his teeth.
"Are they the ordinary club points, Pip?" said Gresley anxiously.
"Ordinary club grandmother! It's a swindle. He probably cheated in the actual play, too. What are you going to do?"
"I shall pay."
"Quite right," said Pip approvingly. "Pay first, and then we can go for him without prejudice. Have you got the money?"
The boy shook his head dismally. "About ten pounds," he said.
"I could raise a couple of fivers, perhaps," said Pip. "But in any case your best plan is to go straight and make a clean breast of it to your Governor."