I was accepted as the inevitable appendage of the
invaluable Raffles, with whom I felt deeply incensed as I made my
bow.
"I have been bold enough," said Lord Amersteth, "to ask one of
the Gentlemen of England to come down and play some rustic
cricket for us next month. He is kind enough to say that he
would have liked nothing better, but for this little fishing
expedition of yours, Mr.-----, Mr.-----," and Lord Amersteth
succeeded in remembering my name.
It was, of course, the first I had ever heard of that fishing
expedition, but I made haste to say that it could easily, and
should certainly, be put off. Raffles gleamed approval through
his eyelashes. Lord Amersteth bowed and shrugged.
"You're very good, I'm sure," said he. "But I understand you're
a cricketer yourself?"
"He was one at school," said Raffles, with infamous readiness.
"Not a real cricketer," I was stammering meanwhile.
"In the eleven?" said Lord Amersteth.
"I'm afraid not," said I.
"But only just out of it," declared Raffles, to my horror.
"Well, well, we can't all play for the Gentlemen," said Lord
Amersteth slyly. "My son Crowley only just scraped into the
eleven at Harrow, and HE'S going to play. I may even come in
myself at a pinch; so you won't be the only duffer, if you are
one, and I shall be very glad if you will come down and help us
too.
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