There was something even
sinister in the casual character of our reception. We had an
arctic landing to ourselves for several minutes, which Raffles
spent in an instinctive survey of the premises, while I cooled my
heels before the portrait of a late commissioner.
"Dear old gentleman? exclaimed Raffles, joining me. "I have met
him at dinner, and discussed my own case with him, in the old days.
But we can't know too little about ourselves in the Black Museum,
Bunny. I remember going to the old place in Whitehall, years ago,
and being shown round by one of the tip-top 'tecs. And this may
be another."
But even I could see at a glance that there was nothing of the
detective and everything of the clerk about the very young man who
had joined us at last upon the landing. His collar was the tallest
I have ever seen, and his face was as pallid as his collar. He
carried a loose key, with which he unlocked a door a little way
along the passage, and so ushered us into that dreadful repository
which perhaps has fewer visitors than any other of equal interest
in the world.
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