blank as the sky itself.

"Better give it up for to-night," I urged. "Surely the morning
will be time enough!"

"Not a bit of it," said Raffles. "I have his key. We'll surprise
him. Come along."

And seizing my right arm, he hurried me across the road, opened
the door with his latch-key, and in another moment had shut it
swiftly but softly behind us. We stood together in the dark.
Outside, a measured step was approaching; we had heard it through
the fog as we crossed the street; now, as it drew nearer, my
companion's fingers tightened on my arm.

"It may be the chap himself," he whispered. "He's the devil of a
night-bird. Not a sound, Bunny! We'll startle the life out of
him. Ah!"

The measured step had passed without a pause. Raffles drew a deep
breath, and his singular grip of me slowly relaxed.

"But still, not a sound," he continued in the same whisper;
"we'll take a rise out of him, wherever he is! Slip off your
shoes and follow me."

Well, you may wonder at my doing so; but you can never have met
A. J. Raffles. Half his power lay in a conciliating trick of
sinking the commander in the leader. And it was impossible not
to follow one who led with such a zest. You might question, but