"Lucky we weren't staying at Nab's," said Raffles, as he lit a
Sullivan and opened his Daily Mail at its report of the robbery.
"There was one thing Nab would have spotted like the downy old bird
he always was and will be."
"What was that?"
"The front door must have been found duly barred and bolted in the
morning, and yet we let them assume that we came out that way. Nab
would have pounced on the point, and by this time we might have been
nabbed ourselves."
It was but a little over a hundred sovereigns that Raffles had
taken, and, of course, he had resolutely eschewed any and every
form of paper money. He posted his own first contribution of
twenty-five pounds to the Founder's Fund immediately on our return
to town, before rushing off to more first-class cricket, and I
gathered that the rest would follow piecemeal as he deemed it safe.
By an odd coincidence, however, a mysterious but magnificent
donation of a hundred guineas was almost simultaneously received in
notes by the treasurer of the Founder's Fund, from one who simply
signed himself "Old Boy.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179