al to be too early," he said as we drove; "on the other
hand, it would be dangerous to leave it too late. One must risk
something. How I should love to drive down Piccadilly and see the
lights! But unnecessary risks are another story."

II

King John's Mansions, as everybody knows, are the oldest, the ugliest,
and the tallest block of flats in all London. But they are built
upon a more generous scale than has since become the rule, and with a
less studious regard for the economy of space. We were about to drive
into the spacious courtyard when the gate-keeper checked us in order to
let another hansom drive out.

It contained a middle-aged man of the military type, like ourselves in
evening dress. That much I saw as his hansom crossed our bows,
because I could not help seeing it, but I should not have given the
incident a second thought if it had not been for his extraordinary
effect upon Raffles. In an instant he was out upon the curb, paying
the cabby, and in another he was leading me across the street, away
from the mansions.

"Where on earth are you going?" I naturally exclaimed.

"Into the park," said he. "We are too early."

His voice told me more than his words. It was strangely stern.

"Was that him--in the hansom?"

"It was."

"Well, then, the coast's clear," said I, comfortably. I was for
turning back then and there, but Raffles forced me on with a hand that
hardened on my arm.

"It was a nearer thing than I care about," said he. "This seat will
do; no, the next one's further from a lamp-post. We will give him a
good half-hour, and I don't want to talk."

We had been seated some minutes when Big Ben sent a languid chime over
our heads to the stars. It was half-past ten, and a sultry night.
Eleven had struck before Raffles awoke from his sullen reverie, and
recalled me from mine with a slap on the back. In a couple of minutes
we were in the lighted vestibule at the inner end of the courtyard of
King John's Mansions.

"Just left Lord Ernest at Lady Kirkleatham's," said Raffles. "Gave me
his key and asked us to wait for him in his rooms. Will you send us up
in the lift?"

In a small way, I never knew old Raffles do anything better. There was
not an instant's demur. Lord Ernest Belville's rooms were at the top
of the building, but we were in them as quickly as lift could carry and
page-boy conduct us. And there was no need for the skeleton key after
all; the boy opened the