"
Raffles and I did not speak till I was in the room which had been
prepared for me. Nor was I anxious to do so then. But he
followed me and took my hand.
"Bunny," said he, "don't you be hard on a fellow! I was in the
deuce of a hurry, and didn't know that I should ever get what I
wanted in time, and that's a fact. But it serves me right that
you should have gone and undone one of the best things I ever
did. As for YOUR handiwork, old chap, you won't mind my saying
that I didn't think you had it in you. In future--"
"Don't talk to me about the future!" I cried. "I hate the whole
thing! I'm going to chuck it up!"
"So am I," said Raffles, "when I've made my pile."
THE RETURN MATCH
I had turned into Piccadilly, one thick evening in the following
November, when my guilty heart stood still at the sudden grip of
a hand upon my arm. I thought--I was always thinking--that my
inevitable hour was come at last. It was only Raffles, however,
who stood smiling at me through the fog.
"Well met!" said he. "I've been looking for you at the club."
"I was just on my way there," I returned, with an attempt to hide
my tremors. It was an ineffectual attempt, as I saw from his
broader smile, and by the indulgent shake of his head.
"Come up to my place instead," said he. "I've something amusing
to tell you.
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