engage to keep at a distance," said Mr Bulstrode, perhaps with a little too much eagerness in his undertone.
"That must be as it suits my convenience," said Raffles coolly. "I see no reason why I shouldn't make a few acquaintances hereabout. I'm not ashamed of myself as company for anybody. I dropped my portmanteau at the turnpike when I got down—change of linen—genuine—honour bright!—more than fronts and wristbands; and with this suit of mourning, straps and everything, I should do you credit among the nobs here." Mr Raffles had pushed away hit chair and looked down at himself, particularly at his straps. His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode, but he really thought that his appearance now would produce a good effect, and that he was not only handsome and witty, but clad in a mourning style which implied solid connections.
"If you intend to rely on me in any way, Mr Raffles," said Bulstrode, after a moment's pause, "you will expect to meet my wishes."
"Ah, to be sure," said Raffles, with a mocking cordiality. "Didn't I always do it? Lord, you made a pretty thing out of me, and I got but little. I've often thought since, I might have done better by telling the old woman that I'd
