Raffles looked at me with open eyes, then more narrowly at the red lids of Levy, and finally at his own watch.
"Very well, Bunny, but I must cut and run for my train in about a minute. There's a 9.24 which would get me to the bank before eleven, and back here by one or two."
"Why go to the bank at all?" I asked him point-blank in the lower room.
"To cash his cheque before he has a chance of stopping it. Would you like to go instead of me, Bunny?"
"No, thank you!"
"Well, don't get hot about it; you've got the better billet of the two."
"The softer one, perhaps."
"Infinitely, Bunny, with the old bird full of his own champagne, and his own revolver in your pocket or your hand! The worst he can do is to start yelling out, and I really do believe that not a soul would hear him if he did. The gardeners are always at work on the other side of the main road. A passing boatload is the only danger, and I doubt if even they would hear."
"My billet's all right," said I, valiantly. "It's yours that worries me."
"Mine!" cried Raffles, with an almost merry laugh. "My dear, good Bunny, you may make your mind easy about my little bit! Of course, it'll take some doing at the bank. I don't say it's a straight part there. But trust me to play it on my head."