So he sends the clurk to fetch the manager, as there was one or
two things he wished to speak about; an' when they come back,
blowed if the gent isn't gone! Beg yer pardon, sir, but he's
clean disappeared off the face o' the premises!" And the porter
looked at us with shining eyes.
"Well?" said Raffles.
"Well, sir, they looked about, an' looked about, an' at larst
they give him up for a bad job; thought he'd changed his mind an'
didn't want to tip the clurk; so they shut up the place an' come
away. An' that's all till about 'alf an hour ago, when I takes
the manager his extry-speshul Star; in about ten minutes he comes
running out with a note, an' sends me with it to Scotland Yard in
a hansom. An' that's all I know, sir--straight. The coppers is
up there now, and the tec, and the manager, and they think their
gent is about the place somewhere still. Least, I reckon that's
their idea; but who he is, or what they want him for, I dunno."
"Jolly interesting!" said Raffles. "I'm going up to inquire.
Come on, Bunny; there should be some fun."
"Beg yer pardon, Mr. Raffles, but you won't say nothing about
me?"
"Not I; you're a good fellow. I won't forget it if this leads to
sport. Sport!" he whispered as we reached the landing. "It
looks like precious poor sport for you and me, Bunny!"
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know.
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