told you so in the beginning," I said, irritably. "But what on
earth have you done with the thing?"

"Sent it to the Queen."

"You haven't!"

Rogue is a word with various meanings, and Raffles had been one
sort of rogue ever since I had known him; but now, for once, he
was the innocent variety, a great gray-haired child, running
over with merriment and mischief.

"Well, I've sent it to Sir Arthur Bigge, to present to her
Majesty, with the loyal respects of the thief, if that will do
for you," said Raffles. "I thought they might take too much
stock of me at the G.P.O. if I addressed it to the Sovereign
her-self. Yes, I drove over to St. Martin's-le-Grand with it,
and I registered the box into the bargain. Do a thing properly
if you do it at all."

"But why on earth," I groaned, "do such a thing at all?"

"My dear Bunny, we have been reigned over for sixty years by
infinitely the finest monarch the world has ever seen. The
world is taking the present opportunity of signifying the fact
for all it is worth. Every nation is laying of its best at her
royal feet; every class in the community is doing its little
level--except ours. All I have done is to remove one reproach
from our fraternity."