CHAPTER VII
THE G. P. R. C. COLLECTS A DEBT
Angel and I played Chelubai and Bottiger a match of five rubbers. To the accompaniment of Driver's loud snoring we had played two rubbers, of which either side had won one, and were in the middle of the third, when he awoke with the resounding snort of the rhinoceros.
Chelubai, who had just dealt, laid down his hand and said, "Do you feel fit to talk business, Mr. Driver?"
The King of Finance only groaned, and his eyes wandered in an utterly vacant glance round the room, and then rested on each of us in turn in a plainly vain effort to recognize us.
"Your declaration, partner," said Chelubai, and we went on playing.
Driver groaned several times, and at last said in a whining voice, very unbecoming to a man of his fine bulk, "My head is splitting and the ropes are cutting my wrists."
"It will teach you to act up to your nickname," said Chelubai coldly.
