The other had twenty-five to get; but these were gotten with so much rapidity that Alick, in enthusiasm, overran that number, amid the applause of those in the “secret,” but apparently to his own dissatisfaction, for he seemed surprised and annoyed, whispering confidentially, as he pitched his cue and the bridge into the corner, “I’ve won, but, upon my soul, Mr. Fumbleton, I wasn’t aware of it; I intended to lose!” This was exceedingly poor consolation to the swell, who sat vacantly looking at the billiard board as one in a trance or dream. It seemed that he considered it _impossible_ to be beaten by such an opponent as Alick! He was mistaken, however, and the best proof of it was that the money was handed over to Alick that same night, and the swell discovered himself to be minus of _not_ less than five hundred pounds out of the six hundred pounds which he had brought to the billiard room with him. “Who’d a thought,” mused Fumbleton, “that I should have lost in so unaccountable a manner; I am out of luck to-night, _that’s_ it! I can beat _two_ such players as he is at _any_ time; but you _can’t_ play against _luck_!” To console the young swell, the winning parties declared that he was the paragon of players, and hoped he would soon have _another_ game, and for a _larger_ stake. This latter remark seemed to contain a little more irony than Mr. Fumbleton could bear, so that he flamed into a passion on the instant, and high words arose. Excited with wine, and infuriated to find he had been so egregiously duped, the swell gave vent to his feelings in unmeasured terms, calling Alick and his friends a parcel of scheming “black-legs,” until finding words would avail but little, they handled him roughly. A general fight ensued among the partisans, and the last thing Augustus remembered in his cups was a general row, in which certain persons’ boot-toes came in sudden and violent concussion with certain parts of his person, and ejected him into the street, where he found himself on the following morning, without money, jewellery, and all high and dry in the mud. Captain Jack laughed boisterously over what he had said. It was a capital joke, and served young Fumbleton right, for he had not been long from college, and was brimful of conceit and nonsense. “I always make it a rule to look out for young collegians, when they are running wild ‘about town,’ as it is called, because they think they know everything. That £500, Alick Faulkner and I won, was the making of us.” “The making of you! How?” “Why, we were so hard-up, we should have had to go to house-breaking or something of that kind.” “Well?”