comes, that I promise you. You shall have your share of the fun,
never fear, and a purple diamond all to yourself--if we're
lucky."

On the whole, however, this conversation left me less than
lukewarm, and I still remember the depression which came upon me
when Raffles was gone. I saw the folly of the enterprise to
which I had committed myself--the sheer, gratuitous, unnecessary
folly of it. And the paradoxes in which Raffles revelled, and
the frivolous casuistry which was nevertheless half sincere, and
which his mere personality rendered wholly plausible at the
moment of utterance, appealed very little to me when recalled in
cold blood. I admired the spirit of pure mischief in which he
seemed prepared to risk his liberty and his life, but I did not
find it an infectious spirit on calm reflection. Yet the thought
of withdrawal was not to be entertained for a moment. On the
contrary, I was impatient of the delay ordained by Raffles; and,
perhaps, no small part of my secret disaffection came of his
galling determination to do without me until the last moment.

It made it no better that this was characteristic of the man and
of his attitude towards me. For a month we had been, I suppose,
the thickest thieves in all London, and yet our intimacy was
curiously incomplete. With all his charming frankness, there was
in Raffles a vein of capricious reserve which was perceptible
enough to be very irritating. He had the instinctive
secretiveness of the inveterate criminal. He would make
mysteries of matters of common concern; for example, I never knew
how or where he disposed of the Bond Street jewels, on the
proceeds of which we were both still leading the outward lives of