pertinently.

"Nothing easier, my dear rabbit."

"Is your Room of Gold a roomful of sovereigns?"

Raffles laughed softly at my scorn.

"No, Bunny, it's principally in the shape of archaic ornaments,
whose value, I admit, is largely extrinsic. But gold is gold,
from Phoenicia to Klondike, and if we cleared the room we
should eventually do very well."

"How?"

"I should melt it down into a nugget, and bring it home from the
U.S.A. to-morrow."

"And then?"

"Make them pay up in hard cash across the counter of the Bank of
England. And you CAN make them."

That I knew, and so said nothing for a time, remaining a hostile
though a silent critic, while we paced the cool black leads with
our bare feet, softly as cats.

"And how do you propose to get enough away," at length I asked,
"to make it worth while?"