"
As Raffles looked at me, I looked at Crawshay, anticipating
trouble; and trouble brewed in his blank, fierce face, in the
glitter of his startled eyes, in the sudden closing of his fists.
"And what's to become o' me?" he cried out with an oath.
"You wait here."
"No, you don't," he roared, and at a bound had his back to the
door. "You don't get round me like that, you cuckoos!"
Raffles turned to me with a twitch of the shoulders. "That's
the worst of these professors," said he; "they never will use
their heads. They see the pegs, and they mean to hit 'em; but
that's all they do see and mean, and they think we're the same.
No wonder we licked them last time!"
"Don't talk through yer neck," snarled the convict. "Talk out
straight, curse you!"
"Right," said Raffles. "I'll talk as straight as you like. You
say you put yourself in my hands--you leave it all to me--yet you
don't trust me an inch! I know what's to happen if I fail. I
accept the risk. I take this thing on. Yet you think I'm going
straight out to give you away and make you give me away in my
turn. You're a fool, Mr. Crawshay, though you have broken
Dartmoor; you've got to listen to a better man, and obey him. I
see you through in my own way, or not at all. I come and go as I
like, and with whom I like, without your interference; you stay
here and lie just as low as you know how, be as wise as your
word, and leave the whole thing to me.
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