"Well, then, when--when?" I began to repeat.

"To-morrow, if you like."

"Only to look?"

The limitation was my one regret.

"We must do so, Bunny, before we leap."

"Very well," I sighed. "But to-morrow it is!"

And the morrow it really was.

I saw the porter that night, and, I still think, bought his
absolute allegiance for the second coin of the realm. My story,
however, invented by Raffles, was sufficiently specious in
itself. That sick gentleman, Mr. Maturin (as I had to remem-ber
to call him), was really, or apparently, sickening for fresh
air. Dr. Theobald would allow him none; he was pestering me for
just one day in the country while the glorious weather lasted.
I was myself convinced that no possible harm could come of the
experiment. Would the porter help me in so innocent and
meritorious an intrigue? The man hesitated. I produced my
half-sovereign. The man was lost. And at half-past eight next
morning--before the heat of the day--Raffles and I drove to Kew
Gardens in a hired landau which was to call for us at mid-day
and wait until we came. The porter had assisted me to carry my
invalid downstairs, in a carrying-chair hired (like the landau)