Miss Melhuish was merely the rector's daughter, and she had only been
asked to make an even number. She informed me of both facts before the
soup reached us, and her subsequent conversation was characterized by
the same engaging candor. It exposed what was little short of a mania
for imparting information. I had simply to listen, to nod, and to be
thankful.

When I confessed to knowing very few of those present, even by sight,
my entertaining companion proceeded to tell me who everybody was,
beginning on my left and working conscientiously round to her right.
This lasted quite a long time, and really interested me; but a great
deal that followed did not, and, obviously to recapture my unworthy
attention, Miss Melhuish suddenly asked me, in a sensational whisper,
whether I could keep a secret.

I said I thought I might, whereupon another question followed, in still
lower and more thrilling accents:

"Are you afraid of burglars?"

Burglars! I was roused at last. The word stabbed me. I repeated it
in horrified query.

"So I've found something to interest you at last!" said Miss Melhuish,
in naive triumph. "Yes--burglars! But don't speak so loud. It's
supposed to be kept a great secret. I really oughtn't to tell you at
all!"

"But what is there to tell?" I whispered with satisfactory impatience.

"You promise not to speak of it?"

"Of course!"

"Well, then, there are burglars in the neighborhood."

"Have they committed any robberies?"

"Not yet."

"Then how do you know?"

"They've been seen. In the district. Two well-known London thieves!"

Two! I looked at Raffles. I had done so often during the evening,
envying him his high spirits, his iron nerve, his buoyant wit, his
perfect ease and self-possession. But now I pitied him; through all my
own terror and consternation, I pitied him as he sat eating and
drinking, and laughing and talking, without a cloud of fear or of
embarrassment on his handsome, taking, daredevil face. I caught up my
champagne and emptied the glass.

"Who has seen them?" I then asked calmly.

"A detective. They were traced down from town a few days ago. They
are believed to have designs on the Abbey!"

"But why aren't they run in?"

"Exactly what I asked papa on the way here this evening; he says there
is no warrant out against the men at present, and all that can be done
is to watch their movements."

"Oh! so they are being watched?"

"Yes, by a detective who