"Bunnies?"
"That's better, Raffles. If you can get me half an hour with Hill's rabbits, I'd risk that. Of course, there'd be a row if it was known. Acton won't inquire, I fancy, who's shooting?"
"Mr. Acton won't, Mr. Bourne; he's a gentleman."
"He's a monitor, though, Raffles, which is a different sort of animal."
Raffles of Rotherhithe did not appear to think that Acton's being a monitor was a clinching argument barring young Bourne's sport. Perhaps he had private reasons for his opinions. Anyhow, he glibly promised to have a breech-loader and a ferret for young Bourne on the morrow.
"And old Hill? They're his rabbits, you know."
"That will be all right. Take Dan Raffles' word for it."
"Now look here, Raffles; I'll give you sixpence for every rabbit I shoot, and I'll pay you for the cartridges. You'll keep all the rabbits, but you will lend me the gun."
"Very good, sir," said Raffles, smartly.
"And, Raffles," said Jack, eyeing over that individual with a curious mixture of amusement and dislike, "you needn't be too beastly friendly and chummy. I'm going to pay you for what you do, and don't fancy I'm going an inch further than I feel inclined. I'm paying the piper, and I'm going to choose all the tunes."