He was probably one of those who protest that there is "nothing
personal" in their most personal attacks. Not that Nasmyth took
this tone about Raffles when he and I found ourselves cheek by jowl
against the ballroom wall; he could forgive his franker critics, but
not the friendly enemy who had treated him so much more gently than
he deserved.
"I seem to have seen you with this great man Raffles," began Nasmyth,
as he overhauled me with his fighting eye. "Do you know him well?"
"Intimately."
"I remember now. You were with him when he forced himself upon me
on the way down yesterday. He had to tell me who he was. Yet he
talks as though we were old friends."
"You were in the upper sixth together," I rejoined, nettled by his
tone.
"What does that matter? I am glad to say I had too much self-respect,
and too little respect for Raffles, ever to be a friend of his then.
I knew too many of the things he did," said Nipper Nasmyth.
His fluent insults had taken my breath. But in a lucky flash I saw
my retort.
"You must have had special opportunities of observation, living in
the town," said I; and drew first blood between the long hair and
the ragged beard; but that was all.
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