The Amateur Cracksman
At the further end he opened a door with a latch-key, and it was darker yet within. Instinctively I drew back and heard him chuckle. We could no longer see each other.
"All right, Bunny! There's no hanky-panky this time. These are studios, my friend, and I'm one of the lawful tenants."
Indeed, in another minute we were in a lofty room with skylight, easels, dressing-cupboard, platform, and every other adjunct save the signs of actual labour. The first thing I saw, as Raffles lit the gas, was its reflection in his silk hat on the pegs beside the rest of his normal garments.
"Looking for the works of art?" continued Raffles, lighting a cigarette and beginning to divest himself of his rags. "I'm afraid you won't find any, but there's the canvas I'm always going to make a start upon. I tell them I'm looking high and low for my ideal model. I have the stove lit on principle twice a week, and look in and leave a newspaper and a smell of Sullivans—how good they are after shag! Meanwhile I pay my rent and am a good tenant in every way;
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