y up to the piazza, gently slide back
the bolts of the French windows in the General's dining-room, proceed
cautiously to the sideboard, and replace thereon these two souvenirs of a
brave act by a good old sport, whence they never would have been taken had
my grandfather known his man."

"You are taking a terrible risk, Raffles," said I, "you can just as easily
send the tings to the General by express, anonymously."

"Jenkins," he replied, "that suggestion does you little credit and appeals
neither to the Raffles nor to the Holmes in me. Pusillanimity was a word
which neither of my forebears could ever learn to use. It was too long, for
one thing, and besides that it was never needed in their business."

And with that he left me.

"Well, General," said I to General Cox, a week later at the club, "heard
anything further about your pepper-pots yet?"

"Most singular thing, Jenkins," said he. "The d----d things turned up again
one morning last week, and where the devil they came from, I can't imagine.
One of them, however, had a piece of paper in it on which was written
'Returned with thanks for their use and apologies for having kept them so
long.'"

The General opened his wallet and handed me a slip which he took from it.

"There it is. What in thunder do you make out of it?" he asked.

It was in Raffles Holmes's hand-writing.

"Looks to me as though Bruce also had been robbed," I laughed.

"Bruce? Who the devil said anything about Bruce?" demanded the General.

"Why, didn't you tell us he had one of 'em on his table?" said I, reddening.

"Did I?" frowned the General. "Well, if I did, I must be a confounded ass. I
thought I took particular pains not the mention Bruce's name in the matter."

And then he laughed.

"I shall have to be careful when Bruce comes to dine with me not to have
those pepper-pots in evidence," he said. "He might ask embarrassing
questions."

And thus it was that Raffles Holmes atoned for at least one of the offences
of his illustrious grandsire.

THE END

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