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Updated: June 28, 2025
Cricket, however, was in the air, and Raffles's cricket-bag back where he sometimes kept it, in the fender, with the remains of an Orient label still adhering to the leather. My eyes had been on this label for some time, and I suppose his eyes had been on mine, for all at once he asked me if I still burned to hear that yarn. "It's no use," I replied. "You won't spin it.
"Nowhere; it was my luggage a portmanteau, cricket-bag, and suit-case full of very little else and by the same token I left the lot at Euston, and one of us must fetch them this evening." "I can do that," said I. "But did you really go all the way to Crewe?" "Didn't you get my note? I went all the way to Crewe to post you those few lines, my dear Bunny!
His room in the hotel where we were staying was littered with clothes and luggage new enough for any bridegroom; I lifted the locked cricket-bag, and found it heavier than a cricket-bag has any right to be. But in the bed Raffles was sleeping like an infant, his shaven self once more. And when I shook him he awoke with a smile. "Going to confess, eh, Bunny?
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