ture during the day.' What do you think of that, Bunny?"

"He is certainly a sportsman," said I, reaching for the paper.

"He's more," said Raffles, "he's an artist, and I envy him. The
curate, of all men! Beautiful--beautiful! But that's not all. I saw
just now on the board at the club that there's been an outrage on the
line near Dawlish. Parson found insensible in the six-foot way. Our
friend again! The telegram doesn't say so, but it's obvious; he's
simply knocked some other fellow out, changed clothes again, and come
on gayly to town. Isn't it great? I do believe it's the best thing of
the kind that's ever been done!"

"But why should he come to town?"

In an instant the enthusiasm faded from Raffles's face; clearly I had
reminded him of some prime anxiety, forgotten in his impersonal joy
over the exploit of a fellow-criminal. He looked over his shoulder
towards the lobby before replying.

"I believe," said he, "that the beggar's on MY tracks!"

And as he spoke he was himself again--quietly amused--cynically
unperturbed--characteristically enjoying the situation and my surprise.

"But look here, what do you mean?" said I. "What does Crawshay know
about you?"

"Not much; but he suspects."

"Why should he?"

"Because, in his way he's very nearly as good a man as I am; because,
my dear Bunny, with eyes in his head and brains behind them, he
couldn't help suspecting. He saw me once in town with old Baird. He
must have seen me that day in the pub on the way to Milchester, as well
as afterwards on the cricket-field. As a matter of fact, I know he
did, for he wrote and told me so before his trial."

"He wrote to you! And you never told me!"

The old shrug answered the old grievance.

"What was the good, my dear fellow? It would only have worried you."

"Well, what did he say?"

"That he was sorry he had been run in before getting back to town, as
he had proposed doing himself the honor of paying me a call; however,
he trusted it was only a pleasure deferred, and he begged me not to go
and get lagged myself before he came out. Of course he knew the
Melrose necklace was gone, though he hadn't got it; and he said that
the man who could take that and leave the rest was a man after his own
heart. And so on, with certain little proposals for the far future,
which I fear may be the very near future indeed! I'm only surprised he
hasn't turned up yet."

He looked again towards the lobby, which