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Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William), 1866-1921

"The Amateur Cracksman"

I've been thinking of you and nothing
else for the last hour. I--I was ass enough to think something
had gone wrong!"
Raffles was smiling when the white light filled the room, but for
the moment I did not perceive the peculiarity of his smile. I
was fatuously full of my own late tremors and present relief; and
my first idiotic act was to spill some whiskey and squirt the
soda-water all over in my anxiety to do instant justice to the
occasion.
"So you thought something had happened?" said Raffles, leaning
back in my chair as he lit a cigarette, and looking much amused.
"What would you say if something had? Sit tight, my dear chap!
It was nothing of the slightest consequence, and it's all over
now. A stern chase and a long one, Bunny, but I think I'm well
to windward this time."
And suddenly I saw that his collar was limp, his hair matted, his
boots thick with dust.
"The police?" I whispered aghast.
"Oh, dear, no; only old Baird."
"Baird! But wasn't it Baird who took the emeralds?"
"It was."
"Then how came he to chase you?"
"My dear fellow, I'll tell you if you give me a chance; it's
really nothing to get in the least excited about. Old Baird has
at last spotted that I'm not quite the common cracksman I would
have him think me. So he's been doing his best to run me to my
burrow.


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