The Amateur Cracksman
he merely laughed, and whispered that the bold course was the safe one every time.
"But it's madness——"
"Not it. Shut up! Is that you, Mr. Mackenzie?"
The detective turned about and scrutinised us keenly; and through the gaslit mist I noticed that his hair was grizzled at the temples, and his face still cadaverous, from the wound that had nearly been his death.
"Ye have the advantage o' me, sirs," said he.
"I hope you're fit again," said my companion. "My name is Raffles, and we met at Milchester last year."
"Is that a fact?" cried the Scotchman, with quite a start. "Yes, now I remember your face, and yours too, sir. Ay, yon was a bad business, but it ended vera well, an' that's the main thing."
His native caution had returned to him.
Raffles pinched my arm.
"Yes, it ended splendidly, but for you," said he. "But what about this escape of the leader of the gang, that fellow Crawshay? What do you think of that, eh?"
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