"I say, Jackson, is this true about old Wyatt?"
Mike nodded.
"What happened?"
Mike related the story for the sixteenth time. It was a melancholy
pleasure to have found a listener who heard the tale in the right
spirit. There was no doubt about Neville-Smith's interest and
sympathy. He was silent for a moment after Mike had finished.
"It was all my fault," he said at length. "If it hadn't been for me,
this wouldn't have happened. What a fool I was to ask him to my place!
I might have known he would be caught."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mike.
"It was absolutely my fault."
Mike was not equal to the task of soothing Neville-Smith's wounded
conscience. He did not attempt it. They walked on without further
conversation till they reached Wain's gate, where Mike left him.
Neville-Smith proceeded on his way, plunged in meditation.
The result of which meditation was that Burgess got a second shock
before the day was out. Bob, going over to the nets rather late in the
afternoon, came upon the captain of cricket standing apart from his
fellow men with an expression on his face that spoke of mental
upheavals on a vast scale.
"What's up?" asked Bob.
"Nothing much," said Burgess, with a forced and grisly calm. "Only
that, as far as I can see, we shall play Ripton on Saturday with a
sort of second eleven.
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