"Walk up!" he cried, as he beckoned to us three. "Walk up and see
one o' their blamed British crooks laid as low as the blamed carpet,
and nailed as tight!"
Imagine my feelings on the mat! The sallow secretary went first;
the sequins glittered at his heels, and I must own that for one base
moment I was on the brink of bolting through the street door. It
had never been shut behind us. I shut it myself in the end. Yet
it was small credit to me that I actually remained on the same side
of the door as Raffles.
"Reel home-grown, low-down, unwashed Whitechapel!" I had heard
Maguire remark within. "Blamed if our Bowery boys ain't cock-angels
to scum like this. Ah, you biter, I wouldn't soil my knuckles on
your ugly face; but if I had my thick boots on I'd dance the soul
out of your carcass for two cents!"
After this it required less courage to join the others in the inner
room; and for some moments even I failed to identify the truly
repulsive object about which I found them grouped. There was no
false hair upon the face, but it was as black as any sweep's.
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