"Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn't
stand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so I
doctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more than
two in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. What
might Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"

"Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."

"We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.
Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on those fancy articles?"

"A thrashing for first course, and _et ceteras_ which you wouldn't
understand."

"Well, he's earned 'em. We couldn't do any betting on the horses, since
the Lincolnshire Handicap is not in sight yet, but he fluttered a little
on the Sporting Club matches; and he was lucky--more than ordinary."

"You didn't wing him there, then?"

"Nothing to speak of. He may have dropped half a sov. altogether, but I
doubt it."

"Then, Raffles, you're a fool. Do you think I brought you down here to be
moral instructor to young Bourne, you grey old badger? Couldn't you bag
an innocent of sixteen or so? Besides, what the deuce do you mean by
tipping me the wink as Bourne and I used to get on our 'bikes'? You
always did it, and I thought you were winding up the youngster hand over
hand."