the corner, or his hot
returns just above the line. At home, in the holidays, the boys had
always met upon the same plane. Of the two, John was the better rider
and shot. Both were members of the Philathletic Club[1] of Harrow, and
the fact that Desmond was incomparably his superior as an athlete was
counterbalanced by John's fine intellectual attainments. If John, at
times, wished that he could cut behind the wicket in Caesar's faultless
style, Desmond, on the other hand, spoke enviously of the Medal, or the
Essay, or some other of John's successes. John spoke often and well in
the Debating Society, getting up his subjects with intelligence and
care. So it was give-and-take between them, and this adjusted the
balance of their friendship, and without this no friendship can be
pronounced perfect.

None the less, free and delightful as this resumption of the old
intimacy had been, John knew Caesar too well not to perceive that
between them lay an unmentionable five weeks, during which something
had occurred. From signs only too well interpreted before, John
guessed that Caesar was once more in debt to the Demon. And finally,
Caesar confessed that he had been betting, that he had won, following
Scaife's advice, and then had lost. The loss was greater than the
gain, and the difference, some five and twenty pounds, had been sent to
Scaife's bookmaker by Scaife. As before, Scaife ridiculed the
possibility of such a debt causing his pal any uneasiness, but it
chafed Desmond consumedly.

Upon the Saturday of the semi-final house match, in which the Manor had
won a great victory by an innings and twenty-three runs, John went to
Desmond's room after prayers. He noticed at once that his friend was
unusually excited. John, however, attributed this to Caesar's big
score. Success always inflamed Caesar, just as it seemed to
tranquillize John. John began to talk, but he noticed that Caesar was
abstracted, answered in monosyllables, and twice looked at his watch.

"Have you an appointment, Caesar?"

"No. What were you saying, Jonathan?"

"You look rather queer to-night."

"Do I?" He laughed nervously.

"You're not bothering over that debt?"

This time Caesar laughed naturally.

"Rather not. Why, that debt----" He stopped.

"Is it paid?" said John.

"It will be. Don't worry!"

But John looked worried. He perceived that Caesar's finely-formed
hands were trembling, whenever they were still.

"Harry,"