om the Trent Bridge crowd.

I noticed that Stott had tied a handkerchief round his finger, but I
forgot the incident until I saw Findlater beckon to his best bowler, a
few overs later. Notts had made enough runs for decency; it was time to
get them out.

I saw Stott walk up to Findlater and shake his head, and through my
glasses I saw him whip the handkerchief from his finger and display his
hand. Findlater frowned, said something and looked towards the pavilion,
but Stott shook his head. He evidently disagreed with Findlater's
proposal. Then Mallinson came up, and the great bulk of his back hid the
faces of the other two. The crowd was beginning to grow excited at the
interruption. Every one had guessed that something was wrong. All round
the ring men were standing up, trying to make out what was going on.

I drew my inferences from Mallinson's face, for when he turned round and
strolled back to his wicket, he was wearing a broad smile. Through my
field glasses I could see that he was licking his lower lip with his
tongue. His shoulders were humped and his whole expression one of barely
controlled glee. (I always see that picture framed in a circle; a
bioscopic presentation.) He could hardly refrain from dancing. Then
little Beale, who was Mallinson's partner, came up and spoke to him, and
I saw Mallinson hug himself with delight as he explained the situation.

When Stott unwillingly came back to the pavilion, a low murmur ran round
the ring, like the buzz of a great crowd of disturbed blue flies. In
that murmur I could distinctly trace the signs of mixed feelings. No
doubt the crowd had come there to witness the performances of the new
phenomenon--the abnormal of every kind has a wonderful attraction for
us--but, on the other hand, the majority wanted to see their own county
win. Moreover, Mallinson was giving them a taste of his abnormal powers
of hitting, and the batsman appeals to the spectacular, more than the
bowler.

I ran down hurriedly to meet Stott.

"Only a split finger, sir," he said carelessly, in answer to my
question; "but Mr. Findlater says I must see to it."

I examined the finger, and it certainly did not seem to call for
surgical aid. Evidently it had been caught by the seam of the new ball;
there was a fairly clean cut about half an inch long on the fleshy
underside of the second joint of the middle finger.

"Better have it seen to," I said. "We can't afford to lose you, you
know, Stott."