hen the old shooter wasn't worth----"

"Fifteen bob," said Acton, looking at the worn barrel.

"See where I have--where you have--the youngster tied neatly up? He owes
me--or you--seven, eight, nine pounds, or any fancy figure I--or you--
like to mention for that old piece of iron there."

"Raffles, we're in luck! Luck has served me better than all your downy
work."

"It has," said that bright specimen of humanity, regretfully. "I can't
pretend that I'd any hand in the blowing out of them blessed barrels."

"All right, Raffles; don't weep. You'd have done it, of course, if you'd
thought about it," said Acton, with a curious sneer; "but this is my
plan--as far as you're concerned. When young Bourne comes, you're to ask
for L7 10s. And you're to be an adamantine Jew; you're to have the money
instanter, or there'll be a rumpus."

"I twig. Make it seven guineas, though," said Raffles, generously.

"Seven guineas! So be it. You can suggest that, unless you get the cash,
you would see Moore."

"Corker, D.D.? I'm on."

"Or Bourne, senior."

"The shaver's brother. I'm tumbling to the dodge."

"Bourne will curl up at this."

"Naturally."

"But you're still the blood-thirsty Jew."

"Moses, and Aaron, and the rest."

"You'll suggest at last that I be tackled for a loan."

"And you'll lend it him!" said Raffles, with an unspeakable leer.

"The business wants careful handling, remember. Young Bourne will think
twice about borrowing, and, perhaps, if he could keep me out of it, would
stand your racket, or Corker's either. So drive him lightly."

"You'll see him on the borrowing tack to-morrow, Mr. Acting."

"And the rest is my business."

"Where do I come in?"

"You can cleave to the seven guineas--if you earn 'em."

"Seven pounds ten, Mr. Acting."

"Seven pound seven, Mr. Raffles. Your own proposal."

"Orl right," said Raffles, resignedly. "I think I know them ropes."

"Good!" said Acton. "Then you can scuttle now to Rotherhithe, or where the
deuce else you like. I'm off."

Acton wheeled out his bicycle and melted into the gathering dark, and his
jackal lurched off to the station and reached Rotherhithe to dream of his
seven guineas which he was going to get. Raffles felt sure of those seven
guineas.

CHAPTER XV

GRIM'S SUSPICIONS

As I said before, Jack Bourne, after the first bloom of his forbidden
pleasures had worn off, rather repented of the Raffles' connection, and
would gladly hav