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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Doings of Raffles Haw"

Would you mind my shaking you by
the hand?"
It was a somewhat extraordinary request, but Robert rather prided
himself upon his Bohemianism, and upon his happy facility for making
friends with all sorts and conditions of men. He readily exchanged a
cordial grip with his chance acquaintance.
"You expressed some curiosity as to this house. I know the grounds
pretty well, and might perhaps show you one or two little things which
would interest you. Here are the gates. Will you come in with me?"
Here was, indeed, a chance. Robert eagerly assented, and walked up the
winding drive amid the growing fir-trees. When he found his uncouth
guide, however, marching straight across the broad, gravel square to the
main entrance, he felt that he had placed himself in a false position.
"Surely not through the front door," he whispered, plucking his
companion by the sleeve. "Perhaps Mr. Raffles Haw might not like it."
"I don't think there will be any difficulty," said the other, with a
quiet smile. "My name is Raffles Haw."


CHAPTER III.
A HOUSE OF WONDERS.

Robert McIntyre's face must have expressed the utter astonishment which
filled his mind at this most unlooked-for announcement. For a moment he
thought that his companion must be joking, but the ease and assurance
with which he lounged up the steps, and the deep respect with which a
richly-clad functionary in the hall swung open the door to admit him,
showed that he spoke in sober earnest.


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