"Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."

"Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest.
"Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting----"

"Acton," suggested that gentleman.

"Acting--I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructions
received from you, sir, I prepared----"

"Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"

"Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better like
that. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show that
young shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not to
know of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do--in
fact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beak
of your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and the
beauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"

"Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.

"The young shaver spoke of 'im different."

"Corker, perhaps," said Acton.

"That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbred
greenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."

"No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."