e and believe that?"

"Did I refuse to believe it of you?" he returned, smiling. "And, with
your own experience, do you think that because a fellow has rooms in
this place, and belongs to a club or two, and plays a little cricket,
he must necessarily have a balance at the bank? I tell you, my dear
man, that at this moment I'm as hard up as you ever were. I have
nothing but my wits to live on--absolutely nothing else. It was as
necessary for me to win some money this evening as it was for you.
We're in the same boat, Bunny; we'd better pull together."

"Together!" I jumped at it. "I'll do anything in this world for you,
Raffles," I said, "if you really mean that you won't give me away.
Think of anything you like, and I'll do it! I was a desperate man when
I came here, and I'm just as desperate now. I don't mind what I do if
only I can get out of this without a scandal."

Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs with which
his room was furnished. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale,
sharp, clean-shaven features; his curly black hair; his strong,
unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful
eye, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain--sifting the
very secrets of my heart.

"I wonder if you mean all that!" he said at length. "You do in your
present mood; but who can back his mood to last? Still, there's hope
when a chap takes that tone. Now I think of it, too, you were a plucky
little devil at school; you once did me rather a good turn, I
recollect. Remember it, Bunny? Well, wait a bit, and perhaps I'll be
able to do you a better one. Give me time to think."

He got up, lit a fresh cigarette, and fell to pacing the room once
more, but with a slower and more thoughtful step, and for a much longer
period than before. Twice he stopped at my chair as though on the
point of speaking, but each time he checked himself and resumed his
stride in silence. Once he threw up the window, which he had shut some
time since, and stood for some moments leaning out into the fog which
filled the Albany courtyard. Meanwhile a clock on the chimney-piece
struck one, and one again for the half-hour, without a word between us.

Yet I not only kept my chair with patience, but I acquired an
incongruous equanimity in that half-hour. Insensibly I had shifted my
burden to the broad shoulders of this splendid friend, and my thoughts
wandered with my eyes as the minu