his way even then, and marvel how Raffles himself
could stand unabashed before so brave a figure. He had not to do so
long. The woman scorned him, and he stood unmoved, a framed
photograph still in his hand. Then, with a quick, determined movement
she turned, not to the door or to the bell, but to the open window by
which Raffles had entered; and this with that accursed policeman still
in view. So far no word had passed between the pair. But at this point
Raffles said something, I could not hear what, but at the sound of his
voice the woman wheeled. And Raffles was looking humbly in her face,
the crape mask snatched from his own.

"Arthur!" she cried; and that might have been heard in the middle of
the square garden.

Then they stood gazing at each other, neither unmoved any more, and
while they stood the street-door opened and banged. It was her husband
leaving the house, a fine figure of a man, but a dissipated face, and a
step even now distinguished by the extreme caution which precedes
unsteadiness. He broke the spell. His wife came to the balcony, then
looked back into the room, and yet again along the road, and this time
I saw her face. It was the face of one glancing indeed from Hyperion
to a satyr. And then I saw the rings flash, as her hand fell gently
upon Raffles's arm.

They disappeared from that window. Their heads showed for an instant
in the next. Then they dipped out of sight, and an inner ceiling
flashed out under a new light; they had gone into the back
drawing-room, beyond my ken. The maid came up with coffee, her
mistress hastily met her at the door, and once more disappeared. The
square was as quiet as ever. I remained some minutes where I was. Now
and then I thought I heard their voices in the back drawing-room. I
was seldom sure.

My state of mind may be imagined by those readers who take an interest
in my personal psychology. It does not amuse me to look back upon it.
But at length I had the sense to put myself in Raffles's place. He had
been recognized at last, he had come to life. Only one person knew as
yet, but that person was a woman, and a woman who had once been fond
of him, if the human face could speak. Would she keep his secret?
Would he tell her where he lived? It was terrible to think we were
such neighbors, and with the thought that it was terrible came a little
enlightenment as to what could still be done for the best. He would
not tell her where he li