"'And I think that the field of Philippi
Was where Cæsar came to an end;
But who gave old Brutus the tip, I
Can't comprehend!'
"You may have forgotten your Shakespeare, Bunny, but you ought to remember that."
And I did, vaguely, but had no idea what it or Raffles meant, as I plainly told him.
"The theatre of war," he answered—"and here we are at the stage door!"
Raffles had stopped suddenly in his walk. It was the last dark hour of the summer night, but the light from a neighboring lamp-post showed me the look on his face as he turned.
"I think you also inquired when," he continued. "Well, then, this minute—if you will give me a leg up!"
And behind him, scarcely higher than his head, and not even barred, was a wide window with a wire blind, and the name of Nasmyth among others lettered in gold upon the wire.
"You're never going to break in?"
"This instant, if you'll help me; in five or ten minutes, if you won't."
"Surely you didn't bring the—the tools?"