But
Raffles laughed so quickly at his lordship's humor, and yet with such
a natural restraint, as to leave no doubt that he had taken kindly
to my own old part, and was playing the innocent inimitably in his
turn, by reason of his very innocence. It was a poetic judgment on
old Raffles, and in my momentary enjoyment of the novel situation I
was able to enjoy some of the good things of this rich man's table.
The saddle of mutton more than justified its place in the menu; but
it had not spoiled me for my wing of pheasant, and I was even looking
forward to a sweet, when a further remark from the literary light
recalled me from the table to its talk.
"But, I suppose," said he to Kingsmill, "it's many a burglar you've
restored to his friends and his relations'?"
"Let us say many a poor fellow who has been charged with burglary,"
replied the cheery Q.C. "It's not quite the same thing, you know,
nor is 'many' the most accurate word. I never touch criminal work
in town."
"It's the only kind I should care about," said the novelist, eating
jelly with a spoon.
"I quite agree with you," our host chimed in.
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