I looked back at Raffles. He had put up his feet. I screwed my
head round still further, and there were the boys in their
pyjamas, their hands upon their knees, like so many
wicket-keepers, and a big man shaking his fist. There was a
lamp-post on the hill-top, and that was the last I saw.
We sailed down to the river, then on through Thames Ditton as far
as Esher Station, when we turned sharp to the right, and from the
dark stretch by Imber Court came to light in Molesey, and were
soon pedalling like gentlemen of leisure through Bushey Park, our
lights turned up, the broken torch put out and away. The big
gates had long been shut, but you can manoeuvre a bicycle through
the others. We had no further adventures on the way home, and
our coffee was still warm upon the hob.
"But I think it's an occasion for Sullivans," said Raffles, who
now kept them for such. "By all my gods, Bunny, it's been the
most sporting night we ever had in our lives! And do you know
which was the most sporting part of it?"
"That up-hill ride?"
"I wasn't thinking of it."
"Turning your torch into a truncheon?"
"My dear Bunny! A gallant lad--I hated hitting him."
"I know," I said. "The way you got us out of the house!"
"No, Bunny," said Raffles, blowing rings. "It came before that,
you sinner, and you know it!"
"You don't mean anything I did?" said I, self-consciously, for I
began to see that this was what he did mean.
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