never meant to kill that old lady."

"But they strangled her in her bed with her own pillow-case!"

"I don't care," said the uncouth scribe. "They didn't break in for
that. They never thought of scragging her. The foolish old person
would make a noise, and one of them tied too tight. I call it jolly
bad luck on them."

"On quiet, harmless, well-behaved thieves," added Lord Thornaby, "in
the unobtrusive exercise of their humble avocation."

And, as he turned to Raffles with his puffy smile, I knew that we had
reached that part of the programme which had undergone rehearsal: it
had been perfectly timed to arrive with the champagne, and I was not
afraid to signify my appreciation of that small mercy. But Raffles
laughed so quickly at his lordship's humor, and yet with such a
natural restraint, as to leave no doubt that he had taken kindly to my
own old part, and was playing the innocent inimitably in his turn, by
reason of his very innocence. It was a poetic judgment on old Raffles,
and in my momentary enjoyment of the novel situation I was able to
enjoy some of the good things of this rich man's table. The saddle of
mutton more than justified its place in the menu; but it had not
spoiled me for my wing of pheasant, and I was even looking forward to
a sweet, when a further remark from the literary light recalled me
from the table to its talk.

"But, I suppose," said he to Kingsmill, "it's 'many a burglar _you've_
restored to his friends and his relations'?"

"Let us say many a poor fellow who has been charged with burglary,"
replied the cheery Q.C. "It's not quite the same thing, you know, nor
is 'many' the most accurate word. I never touch criminal work in
town."

"It's the only kind I should care about," said the novelist, eating
jelly with a spoon.

"I quite agree with you," our host chimed in. "And of all the
criminals one might be called upon to defend, give me the enterprising
burglar."

"It must be the breeziest branch of the business," remarked Raffles,
while I held my breath.

But his touch was as light as gossamer, and his artless manner a
triumph of even his incomparable art. Raffles was alive to the danger
at last. I saw him refuse more champagne, even as I drained my glass
again. But it was not the same danger to us both. Raffles had no
reason to feel surprise or alarm at such a turn in a conversation
frankly devoted to criminology; it must have been as inevitable to him
as it was sinister to me