ng!"

But I was beginning to show temper in my embarrassment, and of course
that made Nasmyth the more imperturbable.

"Really, he might be following some disgraceful calling, by the mystery
you make of it!" he exclaimed. "And for that matter I call first-class
cricket a disgraceful calling, when it's followed by men who ought to
be gentlemen, but are really professionals in gentlemanly clothing.
The present craze for gladiatorial athleticism I regard as one of the
great evils of the age; but the thinly veiled professionalism of the
so-called amateur is the greatest evil of that craze. Men play for the
gentlemen and are paid more than the players who walk out of another
gate. In my time there was none of that. Amateurs were amateurs and
sport was sport; there were no Raffleses in first-class cricket then.
I had forgotten Raffles was a modern first-class cricketer: that
explains him. Rather than see my son such another, do you know what
I'd prefer to see him?"

I neither knew nor cared: yet a wretched premonitory fascination held
me breathless till I was told.

"I'd prefer to see him a thief!" said Nasmyth savagely; and when his
eyes were done with me, he turned upon his heel. So that ended that
stage of my discomfiture.

It was only to give place to a worse. Was all this accident or fell
design? Conscience had made a coward of me, and yet what reason had I
to disbelieve the worst? We were pirouetting on the edge of an abyss;
sooner or later the false step must come and the pit swallow us. I
began to wish myself back in London, and I did get back to my room in
our old house. My dancing days were already over; there I had taken
the one resolution to which I remained as true as better men to better
vows; there the painful association was no mere sense of personal
unworthiness. I fell to thinking in my room of other dances ... and
was still smoking the cigarette which Raffles had taught me to
appreciate when I looked up to find him regarding me from the door. He
had opened it as noiselessly as only Raffles could open doors, and now
he closed it in the same professional fashion.

"I missed Achilles hours ago," said he. "And still he's sulking in his
tent!"

"I have been," I answered, laughing as he could always make me, "but
I'll chuck it if you'll stop and smoke. Our host doesn't mind; there's
an ash-tray provided for the purpose. I ought to be sulking between
the sheets, but I'm ready to sit up wit