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Updated: June 12, 2025
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.
It found a dozen young fellows on the settees in the billiard-room, drinking whiskey and soda-water in their overcoats and pyjamas, and still talking excitedly in one breath. A time-table was being passed from hand to hand: the doctor was still in the library. At last the door opened, and Lord Amersteth put in his head. "It isn't hopeless," said he, "but it's bad enough.
"It's Clephane," said a man who knelt over him. "He's got a bullet in him somewhere." "Is he alive?" "Barely." "Good God! Where's Crowley?" "Here I am," called a breathless voice. "It's no good, you fellows. There's nothing to show which way they've gone. Here's Raffles; he's chucked it, too." And they ran up panting. "Well, we've got one of them, at all events," muttered Lord Amersteth.
In the first place, mirabile dictu, there were one or two even greater duffers than I on the Abbey cricket-field. Indeed, quite early in the week, when it was of most value to me, I gained considerable kudos for a lucky catch; a ball, of which I had merely heard the hum, stuck fast in my hand, which Lord Amersteth himself grasped in public congratulation.
"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.
Lord Amersteth was a fine-looking man with a short mustache and a double chin. He received me with much dry courtesy, through which, however, it was not difficult to read a less flattering tale. I was accepted as the inevitable appendage of the invaluable Raffles, with whom I felt deeply incensed as I made my bow.
"Want to introduce you to old Amersteth," he whispered, when I joined him. "They've a cricket week next month, when this boy Crowley comes of age, and we've both got to go down and play." "Both!" I echoed. "But I'm no cricketer!" "Shut up," says Raffles. "Leave that to me. I've been lying for all I'm worth," he added sepulchrally as we reached the bottom of the steps.
"So you're the scoundrel, are you? Well done! Well done! Where was he caught?" I had no idea. "Here's Lady Melrose's door open," said Crowley. "Lady Melrose! Lady Melrose!" "You forget she's deaf," said Lord Amersteth. "Ah! that'll be her maid." An inner door had opened; next instant there was a little shriek, and a white figure gesticulated on the threshold.
"This is really quite exciting, Miss Melhuish," said I. "May I ask how you come to know so much about it?" "It's papa," was the confidential reply. "Lord Amersteth consulted him, and he consulted me. But for goodness' sake don't let it get about! I can't think WHAT tempted me to tell you!" "You may trust me, Miss Melhuish. But aren't you frightened?" Miss Melhuish giggled. "Not a bit!
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