"Half a dozen rubbish! That's what they are, compared with this one. It's no business of yours, Anthony." "Not at all. But you'll oblige me, Herbert, by not bothering the governor for money to-night. I have been asking him for some, and it has put him out." "Did you get it?" Anthony nodded. "Then you'll let me have the one-pound-five, Anthony?" "I can't," returned Anthony. "I shall have a cheque to-morrow, and I must pay it away whole. _That_ won't clear me. But I didn't dare to tell of more." "If I don't get that fishing-rod to-night, Markham may sell it to some one else," grumbled Herbert. "Go and get it," replied Anthony. "Promise him the money for to-morrow. You are not obliged to give it, you know. The governor has just said that he lived for years upon promises to pay." "Markham wants the money down." "He'll think that as good as down if you tell him he shall have it to-morrow. Bring the fishing-rod away; possession's nine points of the law, you know." "He'll make such an awful row afterwards, if he finds he does not get the money." "Let him. You can row again. It's the easiest thing on earth to fence off little paltry debts like that. People get tired of asking for them." Away vaulted Herbert for the fishing-rod. Anthony yawned, stretched himself, and walked out just as twilight was fading. He was going out to keep an appointment. Herbert Dare went back to Markham's. The man--though, indeed, so far as birth went he might be called a gentleman--lived a little way beyond Mr. Dare's. The cottage was situated in the midst of a large garden, in which Markham worked late and early. He had a very, very small patrimony upon which he lived and kept his mother. He was bending over one of the beds when Herbert returned. "He would take the fishing-rod then, and bring the money over at nine in the morning, before going to the office. Mr. Dare was gone out, or he would have brought it at once," was the substance of the words in which Herbert concluded the negotiation. Could they have looked behind the hedge at that moment, Herbert Dare and Markham, they would have seen two young gentlemen suddenly duck down under its shelter, creep silently along, heedless of the ditch, which, however, was tolerably dry at that season, make a sudden bolt across the road, when they got opposite Mr. Dare's entrance, and whisk within its gates. They were Cyril and George. That they had been at some mischief and were trying to escape detection, was unmistakable. Under cover of the garden-wall, as they had previously done under cover of the hedge, crept they; sprang into the house by the dining-room window, tore up the stairs, and took refuge in the drawing-room, startlingly arousing Mrs. Dare from her after-dinner slumbers. In point of fact, they had reckoned upon finding the room unoccupied. CHAPTER IV. THROWING AT THE BATS.