"It's tough," said Newbert. "Can I help you? Going to take a dip?"
"Boo! No, I won't bathe this morning; haven't got the nerve for a cold plunge, and a warm one might fix me so I'd catch more cold. Just you make yourself comfortable as you can while I'm getting into my duds."
Three times while dressing Herbert was compelled to sit down to rest, and Newbert declared that his friend seemed to be pretty nearly "all in."
"I certainly am," agreed Rackliff; "I'm up against it. Never was knocked out like this before. Why, I can't even smoke a cigarette, it makes me bark so. You can imagine how tough that is on me. Sometimes I'm half crazy for a smoke—I'm shaking all over; but when I try it I just have to quit by the time I've taken three whiffs."
"You've smoked too many of those things, that's what's the matter. Used to hit 'em up myself; thought it real devilish. Never took any real satisfaction in it, though."
"That was because you didn't inhale; they're no good unless you do."
"They're no good if you do; give me a cigar every time."
"You got my last letter all right?" asked Herbert, selecting a necktie from his abundant supply.
"Oh, sure. I've put all the bunch wise, too. They're wondering how I got hold of the information, but I didn't give you away, old pal. I reckon mebbe Foxy and Snead suspect now, but they won't say anything."
"You've got to win," said Herbert, carefully knotting his tie at the mirror. "My old man is kicking over being touched up for cash so often; says he can't see how I spend so much in this quiet place. I've bet every sou of the last amount he sent me on your old baseball team, and if you don't take this game——"