So far there
had been a degree of honor between us, if only of the kind understood
to obtain between thief and thief. Now all that was at an end.
Raffles had cheated me. Raffles had completed the ruin of my life.
I was done with Raffles, as she who shall not be named was done
with me.
And yet, even while I blamed him most bitterly, and utterly
abominated his deceitful deed, I could not but admit in my heart
that the result was put of all proportion to the intent: he had
never dreamt of doing me this injury, or indeed any injury at all.
Intrinsically the deceit had been quite venial, the reason for it
obviously the reason that Raffles had given me. It was quite true
that he had spoken of this Lochmaben peerage as a new creation,
and of the heir to it in a fashion only applicable to Alick
Carruthers. He had given me hints, which I had been too dense to
take, and he had certainly made more than one attempt to deter me
from accompanying him on this fatal emprise; had he been more
explicit, I might have made it my business to deter him. I could
not say in my heart that Raffles had failed to satisfy such honor
as I might reasonably expect to subsist between us.
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