“Anyhow, they are not fit to offer to a gentleman,” “I did not offer them to a gentleman. _You_ helped yourself.” “Of course I did,” he answered, not comprehending the irony of Lionel’s remark. “And deuced bad smokes they are.” Lionel played and ran his score up to ninety-eight. “Two more will make you game,” said Kester. “Two more would not have made him game if he hadn’t played with my ball instead of his own,” said Osmond, his lips livid with rage. “I have not played with your ball instead of my own, Mr. Osmond.” “I repeat that you have. After the second cannon in your last break, you played with the wrong ball. You cannoned again, and then resumed play with your own ball.” “You are mistaken—indeed you are,” said Lionel, earnestly. “Oh, of course!” sneered Osmond. “It’s not to be expected that you would say anything else.” “Did you see the stroke, Kester?” appealed Lionel. “Certainly I did. You played with your own ball and not with Mr. Osmond’s.” “Of course, Kester is bound to back up all we say! Our bankrupt relation can’t afford to do otherwise. He has ten pounds on the game, and——” “By Heaven, Osmond!” burst out Mr. St. George. Lionel again laid his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Mr. Osmond is my guest,” he said, impressively. “In a moment of temper he has made use of certain expressions which he will be the first to regret to-morrow. Let us look upon the game as a drawn one, and, if need be, discuss it fully over breakfast in the morning.” “You have an uncommonly nice way of slipping out of a difficulty, Dering, I must confess. But it won’t wash with me. The moment I find a man’s not acting on the square, I brand him before the world as a cheat and a blackleg.” “Your language is very strong, Mr. Osmond.” “Not stronger than the case demands.” “I assure you again, on my word of honour, that you are mistaken in saying that I played with the wrong ball.” “And I assure you, on _my_ word of honour, that I am not mistaken.” “Even granting for a moment that, in mistake, I did play the wrong ball, you cannot suppose that I would knowingly attempt to cheat you for the sake of a paltry ten pounds.” “But I can and do suppose it,” said Osmond, vehemently. “The fact of your being a rich man has nothing to do with it. I have known a marquis cheat at cards for the sake of half a sovereign. Why shouldn’t you try to cheat me out of ten pounds?” “Your experience of the world, Mr. Osmond, seems to have been a very unfortunate one,” said Lionel, coldly. “Perhaps it has, and perhaps it hasn’t,” said Osmond, savagely. “Anyhow it has taught me to be on the look-out for rogues.” “Osmond, are you mad, or drunk, or both?” cried Kester. “A little of both,” said Lionel, sternly. “If he were not under my roof, I would horsewhip him till he went down on his knees and proclaimed himself the liar and bully he really is.”