Soon after comes Tom's turn.
His ticket, like the others, is seized and opened.

"Here you are then," shouts the opener, holding it up--"Harkaway!--By Jove, Flashey, your young friend's in luck." "Give me the ticket," says Flashman, with an oath, leaning across the table with open hand and his face black with rage.
"Wouldn't you like it ?" replies the opener, not a bad fellow at the bottom, and no admirer of Flashman.

"Here, Brown, catch hold." And he hands the ticket to Tom, who pockets it.

Whereupon Flashman makes for the door at once, that Tom and the ticket may not escape, and there keeps watch until the drawing is over and all the boys are gone, except the sporting set of five or six, who stay to compare books, make bets, and so on; Tom, who doesn't choose to move while Flashman is at the door; and East, who stays by his friend, anticipating trouble.

The sporting set now gathered round Tom.