Our friend again! The telegram doesn't say so,
but it's obvious; he's simply knocked some other fellow out,
changed clothes again, and come on gayly to town. Isn't it
great? I do believe it's the best thing of the kind that's ever
been done!"
"But why should he come to town?"
In an instant the enthusiasm faded from Raffles's face; clearly I
had reminded him of some prime anxiety, forgotten in his
impersonal joy over the exploit of a fellow-criminal. He looked
over his shoulder towards the lobby before replying.
"I believe," said he, "that the beggar's on MY tracks!"
And as he spoke he was himself again--quietly amused--cynically
unperturbed--characteristically enjoying the situation and my
surprise.
"But look here, what do you mean?" said I. "What does Crawshay
know about you?"
"Not much; but he suspects."
"Why should he?"
"Because, in his way he's very nearly as good a man as I am;
because, my dear Bunny, with eyes in his head and brains behind
them, he couldn't help suspecting. He saw me once in town with
old Baird. He must have seen me that day in the pub on the way
to Milchester, as well as afterwards on the cricket-field. As a
matter of fact, I know he did, for he wrote and told me so before
his trial."
"He wrote to you! And you never told me!"
The old shrug answered the old grievance.
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