THE AMATEUR CRACKSMAN

I hardly know you. I was never in your rooms before to-night. But I fagged for you at school, and you said you remembered me. Of course that's no excuse; but will you listen to me--for two minutes?" In my emotion I had at first to struggle for every word; but his face reassured me as I went on, and I was not mistaken in its expression. "Certainly, my dear man," said he; "as many minutes as you like. Have a Sullivan and sit down." And he handed me his silver cigarette-case. "No," said I, finding a full voice as I shook my head; "no, I won't smoke, and I won't sit down, thank you. Nor will you ask me to do either when you've heard what I have to say." "Really?" said he, lighting his own cigarette with one clear blue eye upon me. "How do you know?" "Because you'll probably show me the door," I cried bitterly; "and you will be justified in doing it! But it's no use beating about the bush. You know I dropped over two hundred just now?"