"Why, what do you mean to do?"
"The trick," said Raffles. "I intended writing to you as soon as
I got back to my rooms, to ask you to look me up to-morrow
afternoon; then I was going to unfold my plan of campaign, and
take you straight into action then and there. There's nothing
like putting the nervous players in first; it's the sitting with
their pads on that upsets their applecart; that was another of my
reasons for being so confoundedly close. You must try to forgive
me. I couldn't help remembering how well you played up last
trip, without any time to weaken on it beforehand. All I want is
for you to be as cool and smart to-morrow night as you were then;
though, by Jove, there's no comparison between the two cases!"
"I thought you would find it so."
"You were right. I have. Mind you, I don't say this will be the
tougher job all round; we shall probably get in without any
difficulty at all; it's the getting out again that may flummox
us. That's the worst of an irregular household!" cried Raffles,
with quite a burst of virtuous indignation. "I assure you,
Bunny, I spent the whole of Monday night in the shrubbery of the
garden next door, looking over the wall, and, if you'll believe
me, somebody was about all night long! I don't mean the Kaffirs.
I don't believe they ever get to bed at all--poor devils! No, I
mean Rosenthall himself, and that pasty-faced beast Purvis.
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