The Amateur Cracksman
my bow to a somewhat elderly man with a small bald head and a retreating brow.
"So you're Mr. Raffles's friend?" said he, overhauling me rather rudely with his light small eyes. "Seen anything of him? Expected him early to show me something, but he's never come."
No more, evidently, had his telegram, and my troubles were beginning early. I said I had not seen Raffles since one o'clock, telling the truth with unction while I could; even as we spoke there came a knock at the door; it was the telegram at last, and, after reading it himself, the Queenslander handed it to me.
"Called out of town!" he grumbled. "Sudden illness of near relative! What near relatives has he got?"
I knew of none, and for an instant I quailed before the perils of invention; then I replied that I had never met any of his people, and again felt fortified by my veracity.
"Thought you were bosom pals?" said he, with (as I imagined) a gleam of suspicion in his crafty little eyes.
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