I had turned into Piccadilly, one thick evening in the following
November, when my guilty heart stood still at the sudden grip of a hand
upon my arm. I thought--I was always thinking--that my inevitable hour
was come at last. It was only Raffles, however, who stood smiling at
me through the fog.
"Well met!" said he. "I've been looking for you at the club."
"I was just on my way there," I returned, with an attempt to hide my
tremors. It was an ineffectual attempt, as I saw from his broader
smile, and by the indulgent shake of his head.
"Come up to my place instead," said he. "I've something amusing to
tell you."
I made excuses, for his tone foretold the kind of amusement, and it was
a kind against which I had successfully set my face for months. I have
stated before, however, and I can but reiterate, that to me, at all
events, there was never anybody in the world so irresistible as Raffles
when his mind was made up. That we had both been independent of crime
since our little service to Sir Bernard Debenham--that there had been
no occasion for that masterful mind to be made up in any such direction
for many a day--was the undeniable basis of a longer spell of honesty
than I had hitherto enjoyed during the term of our mutual intimacy. Be
sure I would deny it if I could; the very thing I am to tell you would
discredit such a boast. I made my excuses, as I have said.
But his arm slid through mine, with his little laugh of light-hearted
mastery. And even while I argued we were on his staircase in the
Albany.
His fire had fallen low. He poked and replenished it after lighting
the gas. As for me, I stood by sullenly in my overcoat until he
dragged it off my back.
"What a chap you are!" said Raffles, playfully. "One would really think
I had proposed to crack another crib this blessed night! Well, it
isn't that, Bunny; so get into that chair, and take one of these
Sullivans and sit tight."
He held the match to my cigarette; he brought me a whiskey and soda.
Then he went out into the lobby, and, just as I was beginning to feel
happy, I heard a bolt shot home. It cost me an effort to remain in
that chair; next moment he was straddling another and gloating over my
discomfiture across his folded arms.
"You remember Milchester, Bunny, old boy?"
His tone was as bland as mine was grim when I answered that I did.
"We had a little match there that wasn't down on the card. Gentlemen
and Players, if you recollect?"
"I don't forget it."
"Seeing that you never got an innings, so to speak, I thought you
might. Well, the Gentlemen scored pretty freely, but the Players were
all caught."
"Poor devils!"
"Don't be too sure. You remember the fellow we saw in the inn? The
florid, over-dressed chap who I told you was one of the cleverest
thieves in town?"
"I remember him. Crawshay his name turned out to be."
"Well, it was certainly the name he was convicted under, so Crawshay
let it be. You needn't waste any pity on HIM, old chap; he escaped
from Dartmoor yesterday afternoon."
"Well done!"
Raffles smiled, but his eyebrows had gone up, and his shoulders
followed suit.
"You are perfectly right; it was very well done indeed. I wonder you
didn't see it in the paper. In a dense fog on the moor yesterday good
old Crawshay made a bolt for it, and got away without a scratch under
heavy fire. All honor to him, I agree; a fellow with that much grit
deserves his liberty. But Crawshay has a good deal more. They hunted
him all night long; couldn't find him for nuts; and that was all you
missed in the morning papers."
He unfolded a Pall Mall, which he had brought in with him.
"But listen to this; here's an account of the escape, with just the
addition which puts the thing on a higher level. 'The fugitive has
been traced to Totnes, where he appears to have committed a peculiarly
daring outrage in the early hours of this morning. He is reported to
have entered the lodgings of the Rev. A. H. Ellingworth, curate of the
parish, who missed his clothes on rising at the usual hour; later in
the morning those of the convict were discovered neatly folded at the
bottom of a drawer. Meanwhile Crawshay had made good his second
escape, though it is believed that so distinctive a guise will lead to
his recapture during the day.' What do you think of that, Bunny?"
"He is certainly a sportsman," said I, reaching for the paper.
"He's more," said Raffles, "he's an artist, and I envy him. The
curate, of all men! Beautiful--beautiful! But that's not all. I saw
just now on the board at the club that there's been an outrage on the
line near Dawlish. Parson found insensible in the six-foot way. Our
friend again! The telegram doesn't say so, but it's obvious; he's
simply knocked some other fellow out, changed clothes again, and come
on gayly to town. Isn't it great? I do believe it's the best thing of
the kind that's ever been done!"
"But why should he come to town?"
In an instant the enthusiasm faded from Raffles's face; clearly I had
reminded him of some prime anxiety, forgotten in his impersonal joy
over the exploit of a fellow-criminal. He looked over his shoulder
towards the lobby before replying.
"I believe," said he, "that the beggar's on MY tracks!"
And as he spoke he was himself again--quietly amused--cynically
unperturbed--characteristically enjoying the situation and my surprise.
"But look here, what do you mean?" said I. "What does Crawshay know
about you?"
"Not much; but he suspects."
"Why should he?"
"Because, in his way he's very nearly as good a man as I am; because,
my dear Bunny, with eyes in his head and brains behind them, he
couldn't help suspecting. He saw me once in town with old Baird. He
must have seen me that day in the pub on the way to Milchester, as well
as afterwards on the cricket-field. As a matter of fact, I know he
did, for he wrote and told me so before his trial."
"He wrote to you! And you never told me!"
The old shrug answered the old grievance.
"What was the good, my dear fellow? It would only have worried you."
"Well, what did he say?"
"That he was sorry he had been run in before getting back to town, as
he had proposed doing himself the honor of paying me a call; however,
he trusted it was only a pleasure deferred, and he begged me not to go
and get lagged myself before he came out. Of course he knew the
Melrose necklace was gone, though he hadn't got it; and he said that
the man who could take that and leave the rest was a man after his own
heart. And so on, with certain little proposals for the far future,
which I fear may be the very near future indeed! I'm only surprised he
hasn't turned up yet."
He looked again towards the lobby, which he had left in darkness, with
the inner door shut as carefully as the outer one. I asked him what he
meant to do.
"Let him knock--if he gets so far. The porter is to say I'm out of
town; it will be true, too, in another hour or so."
"You're going off to-night?"
"By the 7.15 from Liverpool Street. I don't say much about my people,
Bunny, but I have the best of sisters married to a country parson in
the eastern counties. They always make me welcome, and let me read the
lessons for the sake of getting me to church. I'm sorry you won't be
there to hear me on Sunday, Bunny. I've figured out some of my best
schemes in that parish, and I know of no better port in a storm. But I
must pack. I thought I'd just let you know where I was going, and why,
in case you cared to follow my example."
He flung the stump of his cigarette into the fire, stretched himself as
he rose, and remained so long in the inelegant attitude that my eyes
mounted from his body to his face; a second later they had followed his
eyes across the room, and I also was on my legs. On the threshold of
the folding doors that divided bedroom and sitting-room, a well-built
man stood in ill-fitting broadcloth, and bowed to us until his bullet
head presented an unbroken disk of short red hair.
Brief as was my survey of this astounding apparition, the interval was
long enough for Raffles to recover his composure; his hands were in his
pockets, and a smile upon his face, when my eyes flew back to him.
"Let me introduce you, Bunny," said he, "to our distinguished
colleague, Mr. Reginald Crawshay."
The bullet head bobbed up, and there was a wrinkled brow above the
coarse, shaven face, crimson also, I remember, from the grip of a
collar several sizes too small. But I noted nothing consciously at the
time. I had jumped to my own conclusion, and I turned on Raffles with
an oath.
"It's a trick!" I cried. "It's another of your cursed tricks! You got
him here, and then you got me. You want me to join you, I suppose?
I'll see you damned!"
So cold was the stare which met this outburst that I became ashamed of
my words while they were yet upon my lips.
"Really, Bunny!" said Raffles, and turned his shoulder with a shrug.
"Lord love yer," cried Crawshay, "'_e_ knew nothin'. _'E_ didn't
expect me; 'e'S all right. And you're the cool canary, _you_ are," he
went on to Raffles. "I knoo you were, but, do me proud, you're one
after my own kidney!" And he thrust out a shaggy hand.
"After that," said Raffles, taking it, "what am I to say? But you must
have heard my opinion of you. I am proud to make your acquaintance.
How the deuce did you get in?"
"Never you mind," said Crawshay, loosening his collar; "let's talk
about how I'm to get out. Lord love yer, but that's better!"
There was a livid ring round his bull-neck, that he fingered tenderly.
"Didn't know how much longer I might have to play the gent," he
explained; "didn't know who you'd bring in."
"Drink whiskey and soda?" inquired Raffles, when the convict was in the
chair from which I had leapt.
"No, I drink it neat," replied Crawshay, "but I talk business first.
You don't get over me like that, Lor' love yer!"
"Well, then, what can I do for you?"
"You know without me tellin' you."
"Give it a name."
"Clean heels, then; that's what I want to show, and I leaves the way to
you. We're brothers in arms, though I ain't armed this time. It ain't
necessary. You've too much sense. But brothers we are, and you'll see
a brother through. Let's put it at that. You'll see me through in yer
own way. I leaves it all to you."
His tone was rich with conciliation and concession; he bent over and
tore a pair of button boots from his bare feet, which he stretched
towards the fire, painfully uncurling his toes.
"I hope you take a larger size than them," said he. "I'd have had a
see if you'd given me time. I wasn't in long afore you."
"And you won't tell me how you got in?"
"Wot's the use? I can't teach YOU nothin'. Besides, I want out. I
want out of London, an' England, an' bloomin' Europe too. That's all I
want of you, mister. I don't arst how YOU go on the job. You know
w'ere I come from, 'cos I 'eard you say; you know w'ere I want to 'ead
for, 'cos I've just told yer; the details I leaves entirely to you."
"Well," said Raffles, "we must see what can be done."
"We must," said Mr. Crawshay, and leaned back comfortably, and began
twirling his stubby thumbs.
Raffles turned to me with a twinkle in his eye; but his forehead was
scored with thought, and resolve mingled with resignation in the lines
of his mouth. And he spoke exactly as though he and I were alone in
the room.
"You seize the situation, Bunny? If our friend here is 'copped,' to
speak his language, he means to 'blow the gaff' on you and me. He is
considerate enough not to say so in so many words, but it's plain
enough, and natural enough for that matter. I would do the same in his
place. We had the bulge before; he has it now; it's perfectly fair. We
must take on this job; we aren't in a position to refuse it; even if we
were, I should take it on! Our friend is a great sportsman; he has got
clear away from Dartmoor; it would be a thousand pities to let him go
back. Nor shall he; not if I can think of a way of getting him abroad."
"Any way you like," murmured Crawshay, with his eyes shut. "I leaves
the 'ole thing to you."
"But you'll have to wake up and tell us things."
"All right, mister; but I'm fair on the rocks for a sleep!"
And he stood up, blinking.
"Think you were traced to town?"
"Must have been."
"And here?"
"Not in this fog--not with any luck."
Raffles went into the bedroom, lit the gas there, and returned next
minute.
"So you got in by the window?"
"That's about it."
"It was devilish smart of you to know which one; it beats me how you
brought it off in daylight, fog or no fog! But let that pass. You
don't think you were seen?"
"I don't think it, sir."
"Well, let's hope you are right. I shall reconnoitre and soon find
out. And you'd better come too, Bunny, and have something to eat and
talk it over."
As Raffles looked at me, I looked at Crawshay, anticipating trouble;
and trouble brewed in his blank, fierce face, in the glitter of his
startled eyes, in the sudden closing of his fists.
"And what's to become o' me?" he cried out with an oath.
"You wait here."
"No, you don't," he roared, and at a bound had his back to the door.
"You don't get round me like that, you cuckoos!"
Raffles turned to me with a twitch of the shoulders. "That's the worst
of these professors," said he; "they never will use their heads. They
see the pegs, and they mean to hit 'em; but that's all they do see and
mean, and they think we're the same. No wonder we licked them last
time!"
"Don't talk through yer neck," snarled the convict. "Talk out
straight, curse you!"
"Right," said Raffles. "I'll talk as straight as you like. You say
you put yourself in my hands--you leave it all to me--yet you don't
trust me an inch! I know what's to happen if I fail. I accept the
risk. I take this thing on. Yet you think I'm going straight out to
give you away and make you give me away in my turn. You're a fool, Mr.
Crawshay, though you have broken Dartmoor; you've got to listen to a
better man, and obey him. I see you through in my own way, or not at
all. I come and go as I like, and with whom I like, without your
interference; you stay here and lie just as low as you know how, be as
wise as your word, and leave the whole thing to me. If you won't--if
you're fool enough not to trust me--there's the door. Go out and say
what you like, and be damned to you!"
Crawshay slapped his thigh.
"That's talking!" said he. "Lord love yer, I know where I am when you
talk like that. I'll trust yer. I know a man when he gets his tongue
between his teeth; you're all right. I don't say so much about this
other gent, though I saw him along with you on the job that time in the
provinces; but if he's a pal of yours, Mr. Raffles, he'll be all right
too. I only hope you gents ain't too stony--"
And he touched his pockets with a rueful face.
"I only went for their togs," said he. "You never struck two such
stony-broke cusses in yer life!"
"That's all right," said Raffles. "We'll see you through properly.
Leave it to us, and you sit tight."
"Rightum!" said Crawshay. "And I'll have a sleep time you're gone.
But no sperrits--no, thank'ee--not yet! Once let me loose on the lush,
and, Lord love yer, I'm a gone coon!"
Raffles got his overcoat, a long, light driving-coat, I remember, and
even as he put it on our fugitive was dozing in the chair; we left him
murmuring incoherently, with the gas out, and his bare feet toasting.
"Not such a bad chap, that professor," said Raffles on the stairs; "a
real genius in his way, too, though his methods are a little elementary
for my taste. But technique isn't everything; to get out of Dartmoor
and into the Albany in the same twenty-four hours is a whole that
justifies its parts. Good Lord!"
We had passed a man in the foggy courtyard, and Raffles had nipped my
arm.
"Who was it?"
"The last man we want to see! I hope to heaven he didn't hear me!"
"But who is he, Raffles?"
"Our old friend Mackenzie, from the Yard!"