Jack boggled over what he'd come to say, but finally blurted out: "Acton, would you lend me seven pounds? I'm in a hole, the deuce of a hole; in fact, I'm pretty well hopelessly stumped. I'll tell you why if you ask me, but I hope you won't. I've been an ass, but I've collared some awful luck, and I'm not quite the black sheep I seem. I don't want to ask Phil--in fact, I couldn't, simply couldn't ask him for this. I'll pay you back beginning of next term if I can raise as much, and if not, as much as I can then, and the rest later." "Oh, you're straight enough, young 'un, and I'll lend you the money," said Acton. Jack blubbed in his thanks, for he was really run down. "Keep up your pecker, Bourne. Borrowing isn't a crime, quite. When do you want the cash?" "By to-morrow, please," said Jack. "Call in for it, then, before afternoon school, and you can pay me back as you say. I suppose the sharks have got hold of you." "Yes," said Jack, with perfect truth, though he only knew of one, and he went to bed that night blessing Acton. His gorge rose when he thought of his fleecing, and at this he almost blubbed with rage as he blubbed with gratitude to Acton. That interesting Shylock, Raffles, was at the farm confidently waiting young Bourne and his coins, and when he saw the young innocent bowling furiously down the road, he sighed with satisfaction. His dream was true. "Write out the receipt." "I've already done it, Mr. Bourne." "Then here's your blackmail." "Correct to the figure, sir, and I think it's a settle, nice and comfortable for all parties." "If it's any comfort for you to know you're an utter blackguard you can hear it. A fellow like you isn't on the same level as your filthy mongrel." "I never said we was," murmured Raffles, as he shuffled away. CHAPTER XVIII HODGSON'S QUIETUS Acton now felt pretty safe as regards young Bourne. He held him fast in the double bonds of indebtedness and of gratitude, and with Jack the gratitude was by far the greater. Acton had saved him from disgrace, from a lengthened stringing up, from the scorn of his brother, from the jeers and laughter of the rest of the fellows. Like others, he could have stood Corker's rage better than the jokes of his cronies. He was received back into the fold of his own particular set with more _éclat_ than he felt he deserved. "Here's old Bourne gone and sacked Acton," said Grim. "Sure Acton hasn't sacked him?" suggested Rogers. "Best fellow breathing," said Bourne, fervently. "Still, he's Biffen's." "I don't care whether he's a water-lily or not--he can't help that, you know, poor fellow." "Why should he? Aren't we cock house?" "Where would you have been if Acton hadn't lifted you out of your muddy pond, and let you see a little sunlight?" "You should be his fag," said Grim. "I'd jolly well like to," said Jack. "I'd black his boots almost." "He's a dozen pairs," said Grim. "Write a poem on his virtues," suggested Rogers.