"Clean sheets yawning for you, Teddy," said he. "And now take two of
these, and one more spot of whisky, and you'll be asleep in ten minutes."

"What are they?"

"Somnol. The latest thing out, and quite the best."

"But won't they give me a frightful head?"

"Not a bit of it; you'll be as right as rain ten minutes after you wake
up. And you needn't leave this before eleven to-morrow morning, because
you don't want a knock at the nets, do you?"

"I ought to have one," said Teddy seriously. But Raffles laughed
him to scorn.

"They're not playing you for runs, my man, and I shouldn't run any risks
with those hands. Remember all the chances they're going to lap up
to-morrow, and all the byes they've not got to let!"

And Raffles had administered his opiate before the patient knew much more
about it; next minute he was shaking hands with me, and the minute after
that Raffles went in to put out his light. He was gone some little time;
and I remember leaning out of the window in order not to overhear the
conversation in the next room. The night was nearly as fine as ever. The
starry ceiling over the Albany Courtyard was only less beautifully blue
than when Raffles and I had come in a couple of hours ago. The traffic in
Piccadilly came as crisply to the ear as on a winter's night of hard
frost. It was a night of wine, and sparkling wine, and the day at Lord's