the time, and
I right for once in my original apprehension! And still no Raffles
in sight - no Raffles to warn - no Raffles, and the clocks striking
eight!
Well may I shirk the psychology of such a moment, for my belief is
that the striking clocks struck out all. power of thought and feeling,
and that I played my poor part the better for that blessed surcease
of intellectual sensation. On the other hand, I was never more
alive to the purely objective impressions of any hour of my existence,
and of them the memory is startling to this day. I hear my mad knock
at the double doors; they fly open in the middle, and it is like some
sumptuous and solemn rite. A long slice of silken-legged lackey is
seen on either hand; a very prelate of a butler bows a benediction
from the sanctuary steps. I breathe more freely when I reach a
book-lined library where a mere handful of men do not overflow the
Persian rug before the fire. One of them is Raffles, who is talking
to a large man with the brow of a demi-god and the eyes and jowl of
a degenerate bulldog. And this is our noble host.
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