old place for
years; but I had never gone down since the day I left; and I will not
dwell on the emotions which the once familiar journey awakened in my
unworthy bosom. Paddington was alive with Old Boys of all ages--but
very few of ours--if not as lively as we used to make it when we all
landed back for the holidays. More of us had moustaches and cigarettes
and "loud" ties. That was all. Yet of the throng, though two or three
looked twice and thrice at Raffles, neither he nor I knew a soul until
we had to change at the junction near our journey's end, when, as I
say, it was I who recognized Nipper Nasmyth at sight.

The man was own son of the boy we both remembered. He had grown a
ragged beard and a moustache that hung about his face like a neglected
creeper. He was stout and bent and older than his years. But he
spurned the platform with a stamping stride which even I remembered in
an instant, and which was enough for Raffles before he saw the man's
face.

"The Nipper it is!" he cried. "I could swear to that walk in a
pantomime procession! See the independence in every step: that's his
heel on the neck of the oppressor: it's the nonconformist conscience in
baggy breeches. I must speak to him, Bunny. There was a lot of good
in the old Nipper, though he and I did bar each other."

And in a moment he had accosted the man by the boy's nickname,
obviously without thinking of an affront which few would have read in
that hearty open face and hand.

"My name's Nasmyth," snapped the other, standing upright to glare.

"Forgive me," said Raffles undeterred. "One remembers a nickname and
forgets all it never used to mean. Shake hands, my dear fellow! I'm
Raffles. It must be fifteen years since we met."

"At least," replied Nasmyth coldly; but he could no longer refuse
Raffles his hand. "So you are going down," he sneered, "to this great
gathering?" And I stood listening at my distance, as though still in
the middle fourth.

"Rather!" cried Raffles. "I'm afraid I have let myself lose touch, but
I mean to turn over a new leaf. I suppose that isn't necessary in your
case, Nasmyth?"

He spoke with an enthusiasm rare indeed in him: it had grown upon
Raffles in the train; the spirit of his boyhood had come rushing back
at fifty miles an hour. He might have been following some honorable
calling in town; he might have snatched this brief respite from a
distinguished but exacting career. I am convinced that it