“You’ll be interested to hear, Bunny,” said he, “that I am now living in Seven Dials, and Bill Sikes couldn’t hold a farthing dip to me. Bless you, she had my old police record at her fingers’ ends, but it was fit to frame compared with the one I gave her. I had sunk as low as they dig. I divided my nights between the open parks and a thieves’ kitchen in Seven Dials. If I was decently dressed it was because I had stolen the suit down the Thames Valley beat the night before last. I was on my way back when first that sleepy square, and then her open window, proved too much for me. You should have heard me beg her to let me push on to the devil in my own way; there I spread myself, for I meant every word; but I swore the final stage would be a six-foot drop.” “You did lay it on,” said I. “It was necessary, and that had its effect. She let me go. But at the last moment she said she didn’t believe I was so black as I painted myself, and then there was the balcony scene you missed.” So that was all. I could not help telling him that he had got out of it better than he deserved for ever getting in. Next moment I regretted the remark. “If I have got out of it,” said Raffles, doubtfully. “We are dreadfully near neighbors, and I can’t move in a minute, with old Theobald taking a grave view of my case. I suppose I had better lie low, and thank the gods again for putting her off the scent for the time being.” No doubt our conversation was carried beyond this point, but it certainly was not many minutes later, nor had we left the subject, when the electric bell thrilled us both to a sudden silence. “The doctor?” I queried, hope fighting with my horror. “It was a single ring.” “The last post?” “You know he knocks, and it’s long past his time.” The electric bell rang again, but now as though it never would stop. “You go, Bunny,” said Raffles, with decision. His eyes were sparkling. His smile was firm. “What am I to say?” “If it’s the lady let her in.” It was the lady, still in her evening cloak, with her fine dark head half-hidden by the hood, and an engaging contempt of appearances upon her angry face. She was even handsomer than I had thought, and her beauty of a bolder type, but she was also angrier than I had anticipated when I came so readily to the door. The passage into which it opened was an exceedingly narrow one, as I have often said, but I never dreamt of barring this woman’s way, though not a word did she stoop to say to me. I was only too glad to flatten myself against the wall, as the rustling fury strode past me into the lighted room with the open door. “So this is your thieves’ kitchen!” she cried, in high-pitched scorn. I was on the threshold myself, and Raffles glanced towards me with raised eyebrows. “I have certainly had better quarters in my day,” said he, “but you need not call them absurd names before my man.”