l where we were staying was littered with clothes
and luggage new enough for any bridegroom; I lifted the locked
cricket-bag, and found it heavier than a cricket-bag has any right to
be. But in the bed Raffles was sleeping like an infant, his shaven
self once more. And when I shook him he awoke with a smile.

"Going to confess, eh, Bunny? Well, wait a bit; the local police won't
thank you for knocking them up at this hour. And I bought a late
edition which you ought to see; that must be it on the floor. You have
a look in the stop-press column, Bunny."

I found the place with a sunken heart, and this is what I read:

WEST-END OUTRAGE

Colonel Crutchley, R.E., V.C., has been the victim of a dastardly
outrage at his residence, Peter Street, Campden Hill. Returning
unexpectedly to the house, which had been left untenanted during
the absence of the family abroad, it was found occupied by two
ruffians, who overcame and secured the distinguished officer by
the exercise of considerable violence. When discovered through
the intelligence of the Kensington police, the gallant victim was
gagged and bound hand and foot, and in an advanced stage of
exhaustion.

"Thanks to the Kensington police," observed Raffles, as I read the last
words aloud in my horror. "They can't have gone when they got my
letter."

"Your letter?"

"I printed them a line while we were waiting for our train at Euston.
They must have got it that night, but they can't have paid any
attention to it until yesterday morning. And when they do, they take
all the credit and give me no more than you did, Bunny!"

I looked at the curly head upon the pillow, at the smiling, handsome
face under the curls. And at last I understood.

"So all the time you never meant it!"

"Slow murder? You should have known me better. A few hours' enforced
Rest Cure was the worst I wished him."

"'You might have told me, Raffles!"

"That may be, Bunny, but you ought certainly to have trusted me!"

The Criminologists' Club

"But who are they, Raffles, and where's their house? There's no such
club on the list in Whitaker."

"The Criminologists, my dear Bunny, are too few for a local habitation,
and too select to tell their name in Gath. They are merely so many
solemn students of contemporary crime, who meet and dine periodically
at each other's clubs or houses."

"But why in the world should they ask us to dine with t