"Napoleon hasn't made a fool of himself, you can make yourself easy on that score," Saunders retorted. "Napoleon knows on which side of the bread his butter lies, even if you don't. When he dances attendance on any one, you can take it on trust that the butter isn't far off. No, no; I've a great reverence for Nappy's genius." "It's an infernally undignified proceeding, anyhow," Webb went on. "I'm beginning to see that old Stafford wasn't so far wrong. What do we want with the fellow? All this kowtowing will go to his head and make him as 'uppish' as the rest of 'em. He's conceited enough, already, aping us as though he had been at it all his life." "That's the mistake we English are always making," grumbled Saunders, as he played out. "We are too familiar. We swallow anything for diplomacy's sake, even if it hasn't got so much as a coating of varnish. We pull these fellows up to our level and pamper them as though they were our equals, and then when they find we won't go the whole hog, they turn nasty and there's the devil to pay. In this case I didn't mind so long as he kept his place, but then that's what they never do. That's our rubber, I think. Shall we stop?" "I've had enough, anyhow," his vis-a-vis answered. "Add up the dern total, will you, there's a good fellow. I must be getting home. There's that boring parade to-morrow at five again, and I've got a headache that will last me a week, thanks to Nappy's bad champagne. Well, what's the damage?" The young fellow who had sat with his head bowed over his cards looked up with a sickly smile. "Yes, what's the damage?" he said. "I can't be bothered--I've lost count. You and I must have done pretty badly, Phipps." "I dare say we shall survive," his partner rejoined carelessly. "We have lost five rubbers. How does that work out, Webb?" "I'll trouble you for a hundred each," Webb answered, after a minute's calculation. "Quite a nice, profitable evening for us, eh, Saunders. Thanks, awfully, old fellow." He gathered up the rupees which the boy's partner had pushed toward him. The boy himself sat as though frozen to stone. Only when Saunders gave him a friendly nudge, he started and looked about him as though he had been awakened out of a trance. "I'm awfully sorry," he stuttered; "you and Webb--would you mind waiting till to-morrow? I'll raise it somehow--I haven't got so much--" Phipps broke into a laugh. "You silly young duffer!" he said. "What have you been doing with your pocket money, eh? Been buying too many sweeties?" The other two men roared, but the boy's features never relaxed. "I tell you I haven't got so much with me," he mumbled. "I'll bring it to-morrow, I promise." Webb rose from his chair, stretching himself languidly.