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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Doings of Raffles Haw"

"You just wait,
Robert, and see if your old dad is a man to be played with."


CHAPTER XIII.
A MIDNIGHT VENTURE.

Not a word was said to Laura when she returned as to the scene which had
occurred in her absence. She was in the gayest of spirits, and prattled
merrily about her purchases and her arrangements, wondering from time to
time when Raffles Haw would come. As night fell, however, without any
word from him, she became uneasy.
"What can be the matter that he does not come?" she said. "It is the
first day since our engagement that I have not seen him."
Robert looked out through the window.
"It is a gusty night, and raining hard," he remarked. "I do not at all
expect him."
"Poor Hector used to come, rain, snow, or fine. But, then, of course,
he was a sailor. It was nothing to him. I hope that Raffles is not
ill."
"He was quite well when I saw him this morning," answered her brother,
and they relapsed into silence, while the rain pattered against the
windows, and the wind screamed amid the branches of the elms outside.
Old McIntyre had sat in the corner most of the day biting his nails and
glowering into the fire, with a brooding, malignant expression upon his
wrinkled features.


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