“Help, forsooth! I begin to believe _you are_ from the Yard,” he said—and his upper-cut came with the “Yard.” It caught me under the chin. It lifted me off my legs. I have a dim recollection of the crash that I made in falling. III Raffles was standing over me when I recovered consciousness. I lay stretched upon the bed across which that blackguard Belville had struck his knavish blow. The suit-case was on the floor, but its dastardly owner had disappeared. “Is he gone?” was my first faint question. “Thank God you’re not, anyway!” replied Raffles, with what struck me then as mere flippancy. I managed to raise myself upon one elbow. “I meant Lord Ernest Belville,” said I, with dignity. “Are you quite sure that he’s cleared out?” Raffles waved a hand towards the window, which stood wide open to the summer stars. “Of course,” said he, “and by the route I intended him to take; he’s gone by the iron-ladder, as I hoped he would. What on earth should we have done with him? My poor, dear Bunny, I thought you’d take a bribe! But it’s really more convincing as it is, and just as well for Lord Ernest to be convinced for the time being.” “Are you sure he is?” I questioned, as I found a rather shaky pair of legs. “Of course!” cried Raffles again, in the tone to make one blush for the least misgiving on the point. “Not that it matters one bit,” he added, airily, “for we have him either way; and when he does tumble to it, as he may any minute, he won’t dare to open his mouth.” “Then the sooner we clear out the better,” said I, but I looked askance at the open window, for my head was spinning still. “When you feel up to it,” returned Raffles, “we shall _stroll_ out, and I shall do myself the honor of ringing for the lift. The force of habit is too strong in you, Bunny. I shall shut the window and leave everything exactly as we found it. Lord Ernest will probably tumble before he is badly missed; and then he may come back to put salt on us; but I should like to know what he can do even if he succeeds! Come, Bunny, pull yourself together, and you’ll be a different man when you’re in the open air.” And for a while I felt one, such was my relief at getting out of those infernal mansions with unfettered wrists; this we managed easily enough; but once more Raffles’s performance of a small part was no less perfect than his more ambitious work upstairs, and something of the successful artist’s elation possessed him as we walked arm-in-arm across St. James’s Park. It was long since I had known him so pleased with himself, and only too long since he had had such reason.