I could not be accused of neglecting my newspaper during the next few wretched days. I read every word that I could find about the attempted jewel-robbery in Palace Gardens, and the reports afforded me my sole comfort. In the first place, it was only an attempted robbery; nothing had been taken, after all. And then--and then--the one member of the household who had come nearest to a personal encounter with either of us was unable to furnish any description of the man--had even expressed a doubt as to the likelihood of identification in the event of an arrest! I will not say with what mingled feelings I read and dwelt on that announcement. It kept a certain faint glow alive within me until the morning brought me back the only presents I had ever made her. They were books; jewellery had been tabooed by the authorities. And the books came back without a word, though the parcel was directed in her hand. I had made up my mind not to go near Raffles again, but in my heart I already regretted my resolve. I had forfeited love, I had sacrificed honor, and now I must deliberately alienate myself from the one being whose society might yet be some recompense for all that I had lost. The situation was aggravated by the state of my exchequer. I expected an ultimatum from my banker by every post. Yet this influence was nothing to the other. It was Raffles I loved. It was not the dark life we led together, still less its base rewards; it was the man himself, his gayety, his humor, his dazzling audacity, his incomparable courage and resource. And a very horror of turning to him again in mere need of greed set the seal on my first angry resolution. But the anger was soon gone out of me, and when at length Raffles bridged the gap by coming to me, I rose to greet him almost with a shout. He came as though nothing had happened; and, indeed, not very many days had passed, though they might have been months to me. Yet I fancied the gaze that watched me through our smoke a trifle less sunny than it had been before. And it was a relief to me when he came with few preliminaries to the inevitable point. "Did you ever hear from her, Bunny?" he asked. "In a way," I answered. "We won't talk about it, if you don't mind, Raffles." "That sort of way!" he exclaimed. He seemed both surprised and disappointed. "Yes," I said, "that sort of way. It's finished. What did you expect?" "I don't know," said Raffles. "I only thought that the girl who went so far to get a fellow out of a tight place might go a little farther to keep him from getting into another." "I don't see why she should," said I, honestly enough, yet with the irritation of a less just feeling deep down in my inmost consciousness. "Yet you did hear from her?" he persisted. "She sent me back my poor presents, without a word," I said, "if you call that hearing."