n no less glad to see my own mistake. My suspicions
of our officious author were thus proved to have been as wild as
himself. I owed the man no grudge, and yet in my human heart I felt
vaguely disappointed. My theory had gained color from his behavior
ever since he had admitted us to the dressing-room; it had changed all
at once from the familiar to the morose; and only now was I just enough
to remember that Lord Thornaby, having tolerated those familiarities as
long as they were connected with useful service, had administered a
relentless snub the moment that service had been well and truly
performed.

But if Parrington was exonerated in my mind, so also was Raffles
reinstated in the regard of those who had entertained a far graver and
more dangerous hypothesis. It was a miracle of good luck, a
coincidence among coincidences, which had white-washed him in their
sight at the very moment when they were straining the expert eye to
sift him through and through. But the miracle had been performed, and
its effect was visible in every face and audible in every voice. I
except Ernest, who could never have been in the secret; moreover, that
gay Criminologist had been palpably shaken by his first little
experience of crime. But the other three vied among themselves to do
honor where they had done injustice. I heard Kingsmill, Q.C., telling
Raffles the best time to catch him at chambers, and promising a seat in
court for any trial he might ever like to hear. Parrington spoke of a
presentation set of his books, and in doing homage to Raffles made his
peace with our host. As for Lord Thornaby, I did overhear the name of
the Athenaeum Club, a reference to his friends on the committee, and a
whisper (as I thought) of Rule II.

The police were still in possession when we went our several ways, and
it was all that I could do to drag Raffles up to my rooms, though, as I
have said, they were just round the corner. He consented at last as a
lesser evil than talking of the burglary in the street; and in my rooms
I told him of his late danger and my own dilemma, of the few words I
had overheard in the beginning, of the thin ice on which he had cut
fancy figures without a crack. It was all very well for him. He had
never realized his peril. But let him think of me--listening,
watching, yet unable to lift a finger--unable to say one warning word.

Raffles suffered me to finish, but a weary sigh followed the last
symmetrical whi