t mask?"

I produced it with a hand whose trembling I tried in vain to still, and
could have died for Raffles when he made no comment on what he could
not fail to notice. His own hands were firm and cool as he adjusted my
mask for me, and then his own.

"By Jove, old boy," he whispered cheerily, "you look about the greatest
ruffian I ever saw! These masks alone will down a nigger, if we meet
one. But I'm glad I remembered to tell you not to shave. You'll pass
for Whitechapel if the worst comes to the worst and you don't forget to
talk the lingo. Better sulk like a mule if you're not sure of it, and
leave the dialogue to me; but, please our stars, there will be no need.
Now, are you ready?"

"Quite."

"Got your gag?"

"Yes."

"Shooter?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me."

In an instant we were over the wall, in another on the lawn behind the
house. There was no moon. The very stars in their courses had veiled
themselves for our benefit. I crept at my leader's heels to some
French windows opening upon a shallow veranda. He pushed. They
yielded.

"Luck again," he whispered; "nothing BUT luck! Now for a light."

And the light came!

A good score of electric burners glowed red for the fraction of a
second, then rained merciless white beams into our blinded eyes. When
we found our sight four revolvers covered us, and between two of them
the colossal frame of Reuben Rosenthall shook with a wheezy laughter
from head to foot.

"Good-evening, boys," he hiccoughed. "Glad to see ye at last. Shift
foot or finger, you on the left, though, and you're a dead boy. I mean
you, you greaser!" he roared out at Raffles. "I know you. I've been
waitin' for you. I've been WATCHIN' you all this week! Plucky smart
you thought yerself, didn't you? One day beggin', next time shammin'
tight, and next one o' them old pals from Kimberley what never come
when I'm in. But you left the same tracks every day, you buggins, an'
the same tracks every night, all round the blessed premises."

"All right, guv'nor," drawled Raffles; "don't excite. It's a fair cop.
We don't sweat to know 'ow you brung it orf. On'y don't you go for to
shoot, 'cos we 'int awmed, s'help me Gord!"

"Ah, you're a knowin' one," said Rosenthall, fingering his triggers.
"But you've struck a knowin'er."

"Ho, yuss, we know all abaht thet! Set a thief to ketch a thief--ho,
yuss."

My eyes had torn themselves from the round black muzzles, from the
accu