Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William), 1866-1921 / 2008-11-19 00:00:00

The thought came naturally enough to me. And yet I may well
have derived it from a face that for once was easy to read, a clear-cut
face that had never looked so sharp in profile, or, to my knowledge, half
so gentle in expression.
"And what about these Jews?" asked Raffles at length.
"There's really only one."
"Are we to guess his name?"
"No, I don't mind telling you. It's Dan Levy."
"Of course it is!" cried Raffles with a nod for me. "Our Mr. Shylock in
all his glory!"
Teddy snatched his face from his hands.
"You don't know him, do you?"
"I might almost say I know him at home," said Raffles. "But as a matter
of fact I met him abroad."
Teddy was on his feet.
"But do you know him well enough--"
"Certainly. I'll see him in the morning. But I ought to have the receipts
for the various instalments you have paid, and perhaps that letter saying
it was your last chance."
"Here they all are," said Garland, producing a bulky envelope. "But of
course I'll come with you--"
"Of course you'll do nothing of the kind, Teddy! I won't have your eye
put out for the match by that old ruffian, and I'm not going to let you
sit up all night either. Where are you staying, my man?"
"Nowhere yet. I left my kit at the club. I was going out home if I'd
caught you early enough."
"Stout fellow! You stay here."
"My dear old man, I couldn't think of it," said Teddy gratefully.
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