moving toward him.
It was evident from the millionaire's demeanour that he had seen nothing. The look on his face was anxious, but not wrathful. He sighted Clarence, and hurried up to him.
'Jones,' he said, 'I've been looking for you. I want a word with you.'
'A thousand, if you wish it,' said Clarence, courteously.
'Now, look here,' said Mr. Rackstraw. 'I want to explain to you just what this game means to me. Don't run away with the idea I've had you fellows down to play an exhibition game just to keep me merry and bright. If Houndsditch wins to-day, it means that I shall be able to hold up my head again and look my fellow-man in the face, instead of crawling round on my stomach and feeling like a blackbeetle under a steam-roller. Do you get that?'
'I do,' replied Clarence.
'And not only that,' went on the millionaire. 'There's more. I have put up my Bloomer boot against Mr. Dodson's Meredith ball as a side bet. You understand what that means? It means that either you win or my life is soured for ever. See?'
'I have got you,' said Clarence.
'Good. Then what I wanted to say was this. To-day is your day for keeping goal as you've never kept goal before. Everything depends on you. With you keeping goal like mother used to make it, Houndsditch are safe. Otherwise they are completely in the bouillon. It's one thing or the other. It's all up to you. Win, and there's four thousand pounds waiting for you above what you share with the others.'
Clarence waved his hand deprecatingly.
'Mr. Rackstraw,' he said, 'keep your dross. I care nothing for money. All I ask of you,' proceeded Clarence, 'is your consent to my engagement to your daughter.'
Mr. Rackstraw looked sharply at him.
'Repeat that,' he said. 'I don't think I quite got it.'
'All I ask is your consent to my engagement to your daughter.'
'Young man,' said Mr. Rackstraw, not without a touch of admiration, 'I admire cheek. But there is a limit. That limit you have passed so far that you'd need to look for it with a telescope.'
'You refuse your consent?'
'I never said you weren't a clever guesser.'
'Why?'
Mr. Rackstraw laughed. One of those nasty, sharp, metallic laughs that hit you like a bullet.
'How would you support my daughter?'
'I was thinking that you would help to some extent.'
'You were, were you?'
'I was.'
'Oh?'
Mr. Rackstraw emitted another of those laughs.
'Well,' he said, 'it's off. You can take that as coming from an authoritative source. No wedding-bells for you.'
Clarence drew himself up, fire flashing from his eyes and a bitter smile curving his expressive lips.
'And no Meredith ball for you!' he cried.
Mr. Rackstraw started as if some strong hand had plunged an auger into him.
'What?' he shouted.
Clarence shrugged his superbly-modelled shoulders in silence.
'Come, come,' said Mr. Rackstraw, 'you wouldn't let a little private difference like that influence you in a really important thing like this football match, would you?'
'I would.'
'You would practically blackmail the father of the girl you love?'
'Every time.'
'Her white-haired old father?'
'The colour of his hair would not affect me.'
'Nothing would move you?'
'Nothing.'
'Then, by George, you're just the son-in-law I want. You shall marry Isabel; and I'll take you into partnership in my business this very day. I've been looking for a good able-bodied bandit like you for years. You make Captain Kidd look like a preliminary three-round bout. My boy, we'll be the greatest combination, you and I, that the City has ever seen. Shake hands.'
For a moment Clarence hesitated. Then his better nature prevailed, and he spoke.
'Mr. Rackstraw,' he said, 'I cannot deceive you.'
