. .'
The weak voice failed, and the bare feet bolted. Now was my
time--if the poor devil had fainted. But I could not be sure,
and there I crouched down below in the dark, at the half-shut
iron door, not less spellbound than imprisoned. It was just as
well, for Ewbank wasn't gone a minute.
"'Drink this,' I heard him say, and, when the other spoke again,
his voice was stronger.
"'Now I begin to feel alive . . .'
"'Don't talk!'
"'It does me good. You don't know what it was, all those miles
alone, one an hour at the outside! I never thought I should come
through. You must let me tell you--in case I don't!'
"'Well, have another sip.'
"'Thank you . . . I said bushrangers; of course, there are no
such things nowadays.'
"'What were they, then?'
"'Bank-thieves; the one that had the pot shots was the very brute
I drove out of the bank at Coburg, with a bullet in him!"'
"I knew it!"
"Of course you did, Bunny; so did I, down in that strong-room;
but old Ewbank didn't, and I thought he was never going to speak
again.
"'You're delirious,' he says at last. 'Who in blazes do you
think you are?'
"'The new manager.'
"'The new manager's in bed and asleep upstairs.'
"'When did he arrive?'
"'This evening.'
"'Call himself Raffles?'
'''Yes.'
"'Well, I'm damned!' whispered the real man.
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