rizzled at the temples, and
his face still cadaverous, from the wound that had nearly been his
death.

"Ye have the advantage o' me, sirs," said he.

"I hope you're fit again," said my companion. "My name is Raffles, and
we met at Milchester last year."

"Is that a fact?" cried the Scotchman, with quite a start. "Yes, now I
remember your face, and yours too, sir. Ay, yon was a bad business,
but it ended vera well, an' that's the main thing."

His native caution had returned to him. Raffles pinched my arm.

"Yes, it ended splendidly, but for you," said he. "But what about this
escape of the leader of the gang, that fellow Crawshay? What do you
think of that, eh?"

"I havena the parteeculars," replied the Scot.

"Good!" cried Raffles. "I was only afraid you might be on his tracks
once more!"

Mackenzie shook his head with a dry smile, and wished us good evening
as an invisible window was thrown up, and a whistle blown softly
through the fog.

"We must see this out," whispered Raffles. "Nothing more natural than a
little curiosity on our part. After him, quick!"

And we followed the detective into another entrance on the same side as
that from which we had emerged, the left-hand side on one's way to
Piccadilly; quite openly we followed him, and at the foot of the stairs
met one of the porters of the place. Raffles asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing, sir," said the fellow glibly.

"Rot!" said Raffles. "That was Mackenzie, the detective. I've just
been speaking to him. What's he here for? Come on, my good fellow; we
won't give you away, if you've instructions not to tell."

The man looked quaintly wistful, the temptation of an audience hot upon
him; a door shut upstairs, and he fell.

"It's like this," he whispered. "This afternoon a gen'leman comes
arfter rooms, and I sent him to the orfice; one of the clurks, 'e goes
round with 'im an' shows 'im the empties, an' the gen'leman's partic'ly
struck on the set the coppers is up in now. So he sends the clurk to
fetch the manager, as there was one or two things he wished to speak
about; an' when they come back, blowed if the gent isn't gone! Beg yer
pardon, sir, but he's clean disappeared off the face o' the premises!"
And the porter looked at us with shining eyes.

"Well?" said Raffles.

"Well, sir, they looked about, an' looked about, an' at larst they give
him up for a bad job; thought he'd changed his mind an' didn't want to
tip the clurk; s