r Lord Fawley retired at this point into an inner room, pulling
savagely at his white beard. Old Lyburn, who had been sitting beside
him, gurgling and gasping, staggered after him. The Rev. Septimus kept
wiping his forehead.

"I can't stand this much longer," said Warde, in a hoarse whisper.

"Well hit, sir! Well hit!"

The Eton cheering became frantic. After nearly an hour's pawky,
uninteresting play, the Eton captain suddenly changed his tactics. His
"eye" was in; now or never let him score. A half-volley came down from
the pavilion end--a half-volley and off the wicket. The Etonian put all
the strength and power he had suppressed so manfully into a tremendous
swipe, and hit the ball clean over the ropes.

"Do you want to double that bet?" said Strathpeffer to the Caterpillar.
They were standing on the top of the Trent coach.

"No, thanks."

"Give you two to one, Egerton?"

"Done--in fivers."

The unhappy bowler sent down another half-volley. Once more the Etonian
smote, and smote hard; but this ball was not quite the same as the
first, although it appeared identical. The ball soared up and up. Would
it fall over the ropes? Thousands of eyes watched its flight. Desmond
started to run. Golconda to a sixpence on the fall! It is falling,
falling, falling.

"He'll never get there in time," says Charles Desmond.

"Yes he will," Warde answers savagely.

"He has!" screamed the Rev. Septimus. "He--_has_!"

Pandemonium broke loose. Grey-headed men threw their hats into the air;
M.P.'s danced; lovely women shrieked; every Harrovian on the ground
howled. For Caesar held the ball fast in his lean, brown hands.

The Eton captain walks slowly towards the pavilion. He had to pass Caesar
on his way, and passing him he pauses.

"That was a glorious catch," he says, with the smile of a gallant
gentleman.

And as Harrow, as cordially as Eton, cheers the retiring chieftain, the
Caterpillar whispers to Mrs. Verney--

"Did you see that? Did you see him stop to congratulate Caesar?"

"Yes," says Mrs. Verney.

"I hope Scaife saw it too," the Caterpillar replies coolly. "That Eton
captain is cut out of whole cloth; no shoddy there, by Jove!"

And Desmond. How does Desmond feel? It is futile to ask him, because he
could not tell you, if he tried. But we can answer the question. If the
country that he wishes to serve crowns him with all the honours bestowed
upon a favoured son, never, _never_ will Caesar Desmond know aga