“So I have, when there’s been a hanging going on, and no one near to read the service. But as I was saying about Fumbleton; he fancies he can play billiards, and so unknown to him I disguised my friend Alick Faulkner, some months ago, and they agreed to make a match for £500 a side. Now, Faulkner and I played a good deal together, but I always beat him, and as Fumbleton always beat me, because I let him, Alick was thought to be a good “mark” for the elegant young swell. The number of points in the game was to be 1,000.” Gentlemen amateurs who were supposed to have had ‘the straight tip’ were freely staking any odds on Fumbleton, which the “knowing ones,” with Alick as their champion, were eagerly accepting. “When play commenced in the evening, there was much interest displayed by professionals to watch the game, and from the superior manner in which the young swell was playing, it was evident he would beat Faulkner his antagonist, with the greatest imaginable ease. In truth it must be confessed that he threw away many chances where he could have easily “counted.” But Fumbleton had so much of a lead, that he frequently amused himself with making “fancy shots” for his own, and the amusement of professional adepts, who loudly applauded him. Towards ten o’clock the game was half over, and the miserable style in which Alick played, brought down very stinging remarks from bystanders, so that leaving him more than one hundred points in the rear, out of seven hundred then played, it was agreed to adjourn for the sake of supper and to finish the game afterwards. Fumbleton partook freely of wine, and was all impatience to recommence the game. Alick did not seem at all inclined for more humiliation at the swell’s hands, and to all appearance returned to the table very reluctantly. The state of the game was apparent to all. Fumbleton was considered to be much too far ahead to be overtaken by Alick, and any odds were freely offered on him and taken. But the game suddenly changed in its character. Instead of playing in his former slow and undecided style, Mr. Alick hit rapidly, scientifically, and so often, that he materially altered his score, and was soon close at the heels of Fumbleton, who opened his eyes widely at this sudden exhibition of his opponent’s skill. “Never mind,” said he to his friends, “he can’t do it _again_, you know; it was all luck that time, I shall now go in and win with a rush.” Alick had similar ideas also, and gained on Fumbleton so far, that when but fifty points remained to be played Alick was but five behind. The chances row began to fluctuate, and Fumbleton’s friends, being still confident, freely laid odds, which were now eagerly taken. In truth the silly swell had made such fine play that but five remained to complete his score, and make him the winner.