"How's that?" inquired Jim, who didn't believe in showing the white feather. The words had hardly left his lips when the batsman swung round and aimed a terrific blow at his head--a blow that Jim, by great agility, just managed to avoid.
"I told you," said the batsman, with dignity, "that I did not like you saying that."
The ever-watchful Hughes hurried up.
"They're only satisfied by being clean bowled, Mr James," he explained, and then proceeded to administer a few words of rebuke to Jim's assailant, who looked duly reproved.
The Long 'Un was meditating trying an over--with the laudable object of getting the big batsman out in a way he would quite understand--when a page-boy came hurrying towards him with a message to the effect that the Doctor wished to speak to him at the telephone.
So Jim had perforce to postpone his over, and left the field little dreaming that certain words which would shortly come to him across the wire were destined to affect his after-career in a remarkable manner.
CHAPTER II.
OVER THE TELEPHONE.
Old Dr Mortimer was, in every sense of the word, a hard man. Of massive build and handsome countenance, upright and commanding in presence, with a clear brain, a will of iron, and a resonant, penetrating voice, his was at once a dominating and notable personality.
Dr Mortimer's sphere of action, it is true, was limited and local; but if, by the accident of circumstances, his lot had been cast in a military or political arena, he would assuredly have risen to a high place, and possibly cut his initials on the rock of fame.