en we gave a day to it. Raffles rode a
Beeston Humber, a Royal Sunbeam was good enough for me, but he insisted
on our both having Dunlop tires.

"They seem the most popular brand. I had my eye on the road all the
way from Ripley to Cobham, and there were more Dunlop marks than any
other kind. Bless you, yes, they all leave their special tracks, and
we don't want ours to be extra special; the Dunlop's like a
rattlesnake, and the Palmer leaves telegraph-wires, but surely the
serpent is more in our line."

That was the winter when there were so many burglaries in the Thames
Valley from Richmond upward. It was said that the thieves used
bicycles in every case, but what is not said? They were sometimes on
foot to my knowledge, and we took a great interest in the series, or
rather sequence of successful crimes. Raffles would often get his
devoted old lady to read him the latest local accounts, while I was
busy with my writing (much I wrote) in my own room. We even rode out
by night ourselves, to see if we could not get on the tracks of the
thieves, and never did we fail to find hot coffee on the hob for our
return. We had indeed fallen upon our feet. Also, the misty nights
might have been made for the thieves. But their success was not so
consistent, and never so enormous as people said, especially the
sufferers, who lost more valuables than they had ever been known to
possess. Failure was often the caitiff's portion, and disaster once;
owing, ironically enough, to that very mist which should have served
them. But as I am going to tell the story with some particularity, and
perhaps some gusto, you will see why who read.

The right house stood on high ground near the river, with quite a drive
(in at one gate and out at the other) sweeping past the steps. Between
the two gates was a half-moon of shrubs, to the left of the steps a
conservatory, and to their right the walk leading to the tradesmen's
entrance and the back premises; here also was the pantry window, of
which more anon. The right house was the residence of an opulent
stockbroker who wore a heavy watch-chain and seemed fair game. There
would have been two objections to it had I been the stockbroker. The
house was one of a row, though a goodly row, and an army-crammer had
established himself next door. There is a type of such institutions in
the suburbs; the youths go about in knickerbockers, smoking pipes,
except on Saturday nights, when they