That sort of way!" he exclaimed. He seemed both surprised and
disappointed.

"Yes," I said, "that sort of way. It's finished. What did you expect?"

"I don't know," said Raffles. "I only thought that the girl who went
so far to get a fellow out of a tight place might go a little farther
to keep him from getting into another."

"I don't see why she should," said I, honestly enough, yet with the
irritation of a less just feeling deep down in my inmost consciousness.

"Yet you did hear from her?" he persisted.

"She sent me back my poor presents, without a word," I said, "if you
call that hearing."

I could not bring myself to own to Raffles that I had given her only
books. He asked if I was sure that she had sent them back herself; and
that was his last question. My answer was enough for him. And to this
day I cannot say whether it was more in relief than in regret that he
laid a hand upon my shoulder.

"So you are out of Paradise after all!" said Raffles. "I was not sure,
or I should have come round before. Well, Bunny, if they don't want
you there, there's a little Inferno in the Albany where you will be as
welcome as ever."

And still, with all the magic mischief of his smile, there was that
touch of sadness which I was yet to read aright.

The Chest of Silver

Like all the tribe of which I held him head, Raffles professed the
liveliest disdain for unwieldy plunder of any description; it might be
old Sheffield, or it might be solid silver or gold, but if the thing
was not to be concealed about the person, he would none whatever of it.
Unlike the rest of us, however, in this as in all else, Raffles would
not infrequently allow the acquisitive spirit of the mere collector to
silence the dictates of professional prudence. The old oak chests, and
even the mahogany wine-cooler, for which he had doubtless paid like an
honest citizen, were thus immovable with pieces of crested plate, which
he had neither the temerity to use nor the hardihood to melt or sell.
He could but gloat over them behind locked doors, as I used to tell
him, and at last one afternoon I caught him at it. It was in the year
after that of my novitiate, a halcyon period at the Albany, when
Raffles left no crib uncracked, and I played second-murderer every
time. I had called in response to a telegram in which he stated that he
was going out of town, and must say good-by to me before he went. And I
could only think that he was insp