of a
low-bred cad who could play with him as a cat with a mouse. He sat
staring in front of him livid with rage, and Raffles, who was watching
him covertly, and with no small anxiety, could see he was digesting the
whole situation. Jack would indeed then and there have let Raffles do
his worst, and would have stood the racket from Corker--and his
brother--rather than be blackmailed by the villain by his side, but he
said hopelessly to himself, "How can I do it without bringing Acton into
it? When this comes out all his training with the Coon must come out
too; perhaps he'll lose his monitorship for not keeping his hand on me,
and Phil's done him a bad enough turn already. I can't round on him.
Heavens! I can't do that."

This reads rather pitiful, doesn't it, under the circumstances?

Jack at the end of his resources tried a desperate bluff.

"I'll put Acton on your track, my beauty, and perhaps he'll make you
see--or feel--reason."

"That game's no good, young shaver. I don't want to see Mr. Acting no
more than you want to tell him of your little blow-outs. Look here, are
you going to pay? Yes or no?"

"I haven't got the money," said Jack, at his wits' end.

"Ho! that's very likely," said Raffles, with a sneer; "anyhow, you could
mighty soon get it if you wanted to."

"How?"

"Why, borrow it, of course. Ask your chum, Mr. Acting. _He_ 'as money.
No end of brass, the Coon says."

"I can't do that," said Jack, in utter despair.

"Orl right," said Raffles, seeing his shot had told. "I see you ain't
got the money on you now, and I don't want to be too 'ard on you. I'll
give you a chance. I'll give you till Saturday to turn it over. My
advice is to borrow from Mr. Acting. He'll lend it you, I should think;
anyhow, I can't stand shilly-shallying here all night, no more than I
can stand the loss of that grand gun, so I'm off. Have the money by
Saturday at three, or I blow the gaff and you can be hung up or cut up
for all I care. I'm not going to be more beastly friendly nor more
chummy than that."

Raffles lurched off with a savage leer, and Jack staggered back to St.
Amory's.

Jack's life was a burden to him for the next few hours, his head nearly
split with the hatching of impossible plans with loopholes to escape the
weasel on his track, but the end was as Acton had foreseen. Acton got a
note through Grim.

"DEAR ACTON,
"Could you give me ten minutes in your study to-night?--Yours,
"J. BOURNE."

"DEA