"
"That seems rather foolish, doesn't it?" I queried.
"Not from his point of view. He doesn't steal because he needs money,
but because he needs excitement."
"You know who he is, then?" I demanded.
"I think I do--I hope I do; but I am not going to tell even you till
I'm sure. I'll say this--if he is who I think he is, it would be a
delight to match one's brains with his. We haven't got any one like
him over here--which is a pity!"
I was inclined to doubt this, for I have no romantic admiration for
gentlemen burglars, even in fiction. However picturesque and
chivalric, a thief is, after all, a thief. Perhaps it is my training
as a lawyer, or perhaps I am simply narrow, but crime, however
brilliantly carried out, seems to me a sordid and unlovely thing. I
know quite well that there are many people who look at these things
from a different angle, Godfrey is one of them.
I pointed out to him now that, if his intuitions were correct, he
would soon have a chance to match his wits with those of the Great
Unknown.
"Yes," he agreed, "and I'm scared to death--I have been ever since I
began to suspect his identity. I feel like a tyro going up against a
master in a game of chess--mate in six moves!"
"I shouldn't consider you exactly a tyro," I said, drily.
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