The real conclusion was a little sensational in its way, but not
nearly so exciting as that.

The match between Day's and Shields' opened in a conventional enough
manner. Day's batted first, and made two hundred and fifty. Henfrey
carried his bat for seventy-six, and there were some thirties. For
Shields' Clephane and Mansfield made their usual first-wicket stand,
and the rest brought the total up to ninety-eight. At this point
Henfrey introduced a variation on custom. The match was a three days'
match. In fact, owing to the speed with which the other games had been
played, it could, if necessary, last four days. The follow-on was,
therefore, a matter for the discretion of the side which led. Henfrey
and his team saw no reason why they should not have another pleasant
spell of batting before dismissing their opponents for the second time
and acquiring the cup. So in they went again, and made another two
hundred and fifty odd, Shields' being left with four hundred and
twelve to make to win.

On the morning after Day's second innings, a fag from Day's brought
Clephane a message from Henfrey. Henfrey was apparently in bed. He
would be glad if Clephane would go and see him in the dinner-hour. The
interview lasted fifteen minutes. Then Clephane burst out of the
house, and dashed across to Shields' in search of Mansfield.

"I say, _have_ you heard?" he shouted.

"What's up?"

"Why, every man in Day's team, bar two kids, is in bed. Ill. Do you
mean to say you haven't heard? They thought they'd got that house cup