mall operation at once, cut away
the poison, it seems to me that the tragedy might have been averted. I
am, I admit, a mere layman in these matters, but it seems to me that
something might have been done.

I left Nottingham on Saturday after lunch--the weather was hopeless--and
I did not make use of the information I had for the purposes of my
paper. I was never a good journalist. But I went down to Ailesworth on
Monday morning, and found that Findlater and Stott had already gone to
Harley Street to see Graves, the King's surgeon.

I followed them, and arrived at Graves's house while Stott was in the
consulting-room. I hocussed the butler and waited with the patients.
Among the papers, I came upon the famous caricature of Stott in the
current number of _Punch_--the "Stand-and-Deliver" caricature, in which
Stott is represented with an arm about ten feet long, and the batsman is
looking wildly over his shoulder to square leg, bewildered, with no
conception from what direction the ball is coming. Underneath is written
"Stott's New Theory--the Ricochet. Real Ginger." While I was laughing
over the cartoon, the butler came in and nodded to me. I followed him
out of the room and met Findlater and Stott in the hall.

Findlater was in a state of profanity. I could not get a sensible word
out of him. He was in a white heat of pure rage. The butler, who seemed
as anxious as I to learn the verdict, was positively frightened.

"Well, for God's sake tell me what Graves said," I protested.

Findlater's answer is unprintable, and told me nothing.

Stott, however, quite calm and self-possessed, volunteered the
information. "Finger's got to come off, sir," he said quietly. "Doctor
says if it ain't off to-day or to-morrer, he won't answer for my 'and."

This was the news I had to give to England. It was a great coup from the
journalistic point of view, but I made up my three columns with a heavy
heart, and the congratulations of my editor only sickened me. I had some
luck, but I should never have become a good journalist.

The operation was performed successfully that evening, and Stott's
career was closed.

VII

I did not see Stott again till August, and then I had a long talk with
him on the Ailesworth County Ground, as together we watched the progress
of Hampdenshire's defeat by Lancashire.

"Oh! I can't learn him _nothing_," he broke out, as Flower was hit to
the four corners of the ground, "'alf vollies and long 'ops an