"You might just as well have been," said Clephane, "from what they
tell me."

At which Henfrey became abusive, for he had achieved an "egg" that
afternoon, and missed a catch; which things soured him, though Day's
had polished off Dexter's handsomely.

"Well," he said at length, "you're in the semi-final now, of all weird
places. You'd better play Spence's next. When can you play?"

"Henfrey," said Clephane, "I have a bright, open, boyish countenance,
but I was not born yesterday. You want to get a dangerous rival out of
the way without trouble, so you set Shields' to smash up Spence's. No,
Henfrey. I do not intend to be your catspaw. We will draw lots who is
to play which. Here comes Jackson. We'll toss odd man out."

And when the coins fell there were two tails and one head; and the
head belonged to the coin of Clephane.

"So, you see," he said to Henfrey, "Shields' is in the final. No
wonder you wanted us to scratch."

I should like this story to end with a vivid description of a tight
finish. Considering that Day's beat Spence's, and consequently met
Shields' in the final, that would certainly be the most artistic
ending. Henfrey batting--Clephane bowling--one to tie, two to win, one
wicket to fall. Up goes the ball! Will the lad catch it!! He fumbles
it. It falls. All is over. But look! With a supreme effort--and so on.