myself. Meanwhile--slow march! The beggar hasn't moved an
eyelid. We may swing for him if you show indecent haste!"

"We!" I whispered. "We!"

And my knees knocked together as we came up to the chatting
attendants. But Raffles must needs interrupt them to ask the
way to the Prehistoric Saloon.

"At the top of the stairs."

"Thank you. Then we'll work round that way to the Egyptian
part."

And we left them resuming their providential chat.

"I believe you're mad," I said bitterly as we went.

"I believe I was," admitted Raffles; "but I'm not now, and I'll
see you through. A hundred and thirty-nine yards, wasn't it?
Then it can't be more than a hundred and twenty now--not as
much. Steady, Bunny, for God's sake. It's SLOW march--for our
lives."

There was this much management. The rest was our colossal luck.
A hansom was being paid off at the foot of the steps outside,
and in we jumped, Raffles shouting "Charing Cross!" for all
Bloomsbury to hear.

We had turned into Bloomsbury Street without exchanging a