If you won't--if you're
fool enough not to trust me--there's the door. Go out and say
what you like, and be damned to you!"
Crawshay slapped his thigh.
"That's talking!" said he. "Lord love yer, I know where I am
when you talk like that. I'll trust yer. I know a man when he
gets his tongue between his teeth; you're all right. I don't say
so much about this other gent, though I saw him along with you on
the job that time in the provinces; but if he's a pal of yours,
Mr. Raffles, he'll be all right too. I only hope you gents ain't
too stony--"
And he touched his pockets with a rueful face.
"I only went for their togs," said he. "You never struck two
such stony-broke cusses in yer life!"
"That's all right," said Raffles. "We'll see you through
properly. Leave it to us, and you sit tight."
"Rightum!" said Crawshay. "And I'll have a sleep time you're
gone. But no sperrits--no, thank'ee--not yet! Once let me loose
on the lush, and, Lord love yer, I'm a gone coon!"
Raffles got his overcoat, a long, light driving-coat, I remember,
and even as he put it on our fugitive was dozing in the chair; we
left him murmuring incoherently, with the gas out, and his bare
feet toasting.
"Not such a bad chap, that professor," said Raffles on the
stairs; "a real genius in his way, too, though his methods are a
little elementary for my taste.
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