"So I did. Three years ago. It has been my curse; now it's all
gone--every penny! Yes, I've been a fool; there never was nor
will be such a fool as I've been. . . . Isn't this enough for
you? Why don't you turn me out?" He was walking up and down
with a very long face instead.

"Couldn't your people do anything?" he asked at length.

"Thank God," I cried, "I have no people! I was an only child. I
came in for everything there was. My one comfort is that they're
gone, and will never know."

I cast myself into a chair and hid my face. Raffles continued to
pace the rich carpet that was of a piece with everything else in
his rooms. There was no variation in his soft and even
footfalls.

"You used to be a literary little cuss," he said at length;
"didn't you edit the mag. before you left? Anyway I recollect
fagging you to do my verses; and literature of all sorts is the
very thing nowadays; any fool can make a living at it."

I shook my head. "Any fool couldn't write off my debts," said I.

"Then you have a flat somewhere?" he went on.

"Yes, in Mount Street."

"Well, what about the furniture?"