ed the club more than ever.

"There is nothing like it at this time of year," said he. "In the
summer I have my cricket to provide me with decent employment in the
sight of men. Keep yourself before the public from morning to night,
and they'll never think of you in the still small hours."

Our behavior, in fine, had so long been irreproachable that I rose
without misgiving on the morning of Lord Thornaby's dinner to the other
Criminologists and guests. My chief anxiety was to arrive under the
aegis of my brilliant friend, and I had begged him to pick me up on his
way; but at five minutes to the appointed hour there was no sign of
Raffles or his cab. We were bidden at a quarter to eight for eight
o'clock, so after all I had to hurry off alone.

Fortunately, Thornaby House is almost at the end of my street that was;
and it seemed to me another fortunate circumstance that the house stood
back, as it did and does, in its own August courtyard; for, as I was
about to knock, a hansom came twinkling in behind me, and I drew back,
hoping it was Raffles at the last moment. It was not, and I knew it in
time to melt from the porch, and wait yet another minute in the
shadows, since others were as late as I. And out jumped these others,
chattering in stage whispers as they paid their cab.

"Thornaby has a bet about it with Freddy Vereker, who can't come, I
hear. Of course, it won t be lost or won to-night. But the dear man
thinks he's been invited as a cricketer!"

"I don't believe he's the other thing," said a voice as brusque as the
first was bland. "I believe it's all bunkum. I wish I didn't, but I
do!"

"I think you'll find it's more than that," rejoined the other, as the
doors opened and swallowed the pair.

I flung out limp hands and smote the air. Raffles bidden to what he
had well called this "gruesome board," not as a cricketer but, clearly,
as a suspected criminal! Raffles wrong all the time, and I right for
once in my original apprehension! And still no Raffles in sight--no
Raffles to warn--no Raffles, and the clocks striking eight!

Well may I shirk the psychology of such a moment, for my belief is that
the striking clocks struck out all power of thought and feeling, and
that I played my poor part the better for that blessed surcease of
intellectual sensation. On the other hand, I was never more alive to
the purely objective impressions of any hour of my existence, and of
them the memory is startli