Excerpt: ...obvious frolic after what happened at that meeting. And they will catch me, if I stand talking here: you run away back to bed-unless you're quite determined to 'give old Brutus the tip!'" Now we had barely been a minute whispering where we stood, and the whole street was still as silent as the tomb. To me there seemed least danger in discussing the matter quietly on the spot. But even as he gave me my dismissal Raffles turned and caught the sill above him, first with one hand and then with the other. His legs swung like a 144 pendulum as he drew himself up with one arm, then shifted the position of the other hand, and very gradually worked himself waist-high with the sill. But the sill was too narrow for him, that was as far as he could get unaided, and it was as much as I could bear to see of a feat which in itself might have hardened my conscience and softened my heart. But I had identified his doggerel verse at last. I am ashamed to say that it was part of a set of my very own writing in the school magazine of my time. So Raffles knew the stuff better than I did myself, and yet scorned to press his flattery to win me over! He had won me: in a second my rounded shoulders were a pedestal for those dangling feet. And before many more I heard the old metallic snap, followed by the raising of a sash so slowly and gently as to be almost inaudible to me listening just below. Raffles went through hands first, disappeared for an instant, then leaned out, lowering his hands for me. "Come on, Bunny! You're safer in than out. Hang on to the sill and let me get you under the arms. Now all together-quietly does it-and over you come!" No need to dwell on our proceedings in the bank. I myself had small part in the scene, being 145 posted rather in the wings, at the foot of the stairs leading to the private premises in which the manager had his domestic being. But I made my mind easy about him, for in the silence of my watch I soon detected a...