Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Suzanne Shell, and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: I think she must have seen us, even in
the dim light.]
A THIEF
IN THE NIGHT
FURTHER ADVENTURES OF
A. J. RAFFLES
CRICKETER AND CRACKSMAN
BY
E. W. HORNUNG
ILLUSTRATED BY
CYRUS CUNEO
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
NEW YORK 1906
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
E. W. HORNUNG
COPYRIGHT, 1905, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
* * * * *
CONTENTS
Page
Out of Paradise 1
The Chest of Silver 32
The Rest Cure 58
The Criminologists' Club 88
The Field of Philippi 122
A Bad Night 156
A Trap to Catch a Cracksman 184
The Spoils of Sacrilege 216
The Raffles Relics 247
The Last Word 278
* * * * *
ILLUSTRATIONS
I think she must have seen us, even in the
dim light Frontispiece
Facing
Page
Raffles in the strong-room 54
It was the fire-eating and prison-inspecting
colonel himself. He was ready for me, a revolver
in his hand 76
Raffles was as excited as any of us now; he
outstripped us all 106
He kept us laughing in his study until the
chapel bells rang him out 152
The ragged trousers stripped from an evening
pair 176
Down went the trap-door with a bang 232
No one can make out what this little thick
velvet bag's for 260
* * * * *
A Thief in the Night
Out of Paradise
If I must tell more tales of Raffles, I can but go back to our
earliest days together, and fill in the blanks left by discretion in
existing annals. In so doing I may indeed fill some small part of an
infinitely greater blank, across which you may conceive me to have
stretched my canvas for the first frank portrait of my friend. The
whole truth cannot harm him now. I shall paint in every wart. Raffles
was a villain, when all is written; it is no service to his memory to
gloze the fact; yet I have done so myself before to-day. I have
omitted whole heinous episodes. I have dwelt unduly on the redeeming
side. And this I may do again, blinded even as I write by the gallant
glamour that made my villain more to me than any hero. But at least
there shall be no more reservations, and as an earnest I shall make no
further secret of the greatest wrong that even Raffles ever did me.
I pick my words with care and pain, loyal as I still would be to my
friend, and yet remembering as I must those Ides of March when he led
me blindfold into temptation and crime. That was an ugly office, if
you will. It was a moral bagatelle to the treacherous trick he was to
play me a few weeks later. The second offence, on the other hand, was
to prove the less serious of the two against society, and might in
itself have been published to the world years ago. There have been
private reasons for my reticence. The affair was not only too
intimately mine, and too discreditable to Raffles. One other was
involved in it, one dearer to me than Raffles himself, one whose name
shall not even now be sullied by association with ours.
Suffice it that I had been engaged to her before that mad March deed.
True, her people called it "an understanding," and frowned even upon
that, as well they might. But their authority was not direct; we bowed
to it as an act of politic grace; between us, all was well but my
unworthiness. That may be gauged when I confess that this was how the
matter stood on the night I gave a worthless check for my losses at
baccarat, and afterward turned to Raffles in my need. Even after that
I saw her sometimes. But I let her guess that there was more upon my
soul than she must ever share, and at last I had written to end it
all. I remember that week so well! It was the close of such a May as
we had never had since, and I was too miserable even to follow the
heavy scoring in the papers. Raffles was the only man who could get a
wicket up at Lord's, and I never once went to see him play. Against
Yorkshire, however, he helped himself to a hundred runs as well; and
that brought Raffles round to me, on his way home to the Albany.
"We must dine and celebrate the rare event," said he. "A century takes
it out of one at my time of life; and you, Bunny, you look quite as
much in need of your end of a worthy bottle. Suppose we make it the
Cafe Royal, and eight sharp? I'll be there first to fix up the table
and the wine."
And at the Cafe Royal I incontinently told him of the trouble I was
in. It was the first he had ever heard of my affair, and I told him
all, though not before our bottle had been succeeded by a pint of the
same exemplary brand. Raffles heard me out with grave attention. His
sympathy was the more grateful for the tactful brevity with which it
was indicated rather than expressed. He only wished that I had told
him of this complication in the beginning; as I had not, he agreed
with me that the only course was a candid and complete renunciation.
It was not as though my divinity had a penny of her own, or I could
earn an honest one. I had explained to Raffles that she was an orphan,
who spent most of her time with an aristocratic aunt in the country,
and the remainder under the repressive roof of a pompous politician in
Palace Gardens. The aunt had, I believed, still a sneaking softness
for me, but her illustrious brother had set his face against me from
the first.
"Hector Carruthers!" murmured Raffles, repeating the detested name
with his clear, cold eye on mine. "I suppose you haven't seen much of
him?"
"Not a thing for ages," I replied. "I was at the house two or three
days last year, but they've neither asked me since nor been at home to
me when I've called. The old beast seems a judge of men."
And I laughed bitterly in my glass.
"Nice house?" said Raffles, glancing at himself in his silver
cigarette-case.
"Top shelf," said I. "You know the houses in Palace Gardens, don't
you?"
"Not so well as I should like to know them, Bunny."
"Well, it's about the most palatial of the lot. The old ruffian is as
rich as Croesus. It's a country-place in town."
"What about the window-fastenings?" asked Raffles casually.
I recoiled from the open cigarette-case that he proffered as he spoke.
Our eyes met; and in his there was that starry twinkle of mirth and
mischief, that sunny beam of audacious devilment, which had been my
undoing two months before, which was to undo me as often as he chose
until the chapter's end. Yet for once I withstood its glamour; for
once I turned aside that luminous glance with front of steel. There
was no need for Raffles to voice his plans. I read them all between
the strong lines of his smiling, eager face. And I pushed back my
chair in the equal eagerness of my own resolve.
"Not if I know it!" said I. "A house I've dined in--a house I've seen
_her_ in--a house where _she_ stays by the month together! Don't put
it into words, Raffles, or I'll get up and go."
"You mustn't do that before the coffee and liqueur," said Raffles
laughing. "Have a small Sullivan first: it's the royal road to a
cigar. And now let me observe that your scruples would do you honor if
old Carruthers still lived in the house in question."
"Do you mean to say he doesn't?"
Raffles struck a match, and handed it first to me. "I mean to say, my
dear Bunny, that Palace Gardens knows the very name no more. You began
by telling me you had heard nothing of these people all this year.
That's quite enough to account for our little misunderstanding. I was
thinking of the house, and you were thinking of the people in the
house."
"But who are they, Raffles? Who has taken the house, if old Carruthers
has moved, and how do you know that it is still worth a visit?"
"In answer to your first question--Lord Lochmaben," replied Raffles,
blowing bracelets of smoke toward the ceiling. "You look as though you
had never heard of him; but as the cricket and racing are the only
part of your paper that you condescend to read, you can't be expected
to keep track of all the peers created in your time. Your other
question is not worth answering. How do you suppose that I know these
things? It's my business to get to know them, and that's all there is
to it. As a matter of fact, Lady Lochmaben has just as good diamonds
as Mrs. Carruthers ever had; and the chances are that she keeps them
where Mrs. Carruthers kept hers, if you could enlighten me on that
point."
As it happened, I could, since I knew from his niece that it was one
on which Mr. Carruthers had been a faddist in his time. He had made
quite a study of the cracksman's craft, in a resolve to circumvent it
with his own. I remembered myself how the ground-floor windows were
elaborately bolted and shuttered, and how the doors of all the rooms
opening upon the square inner hall were fitted with extra Yale locks,
at an unlikely height, not to be discovered by one within the room. It
had been the butler's business to turn and to collect all these keys
before retiring for the night. But the key of the safe in the study
was supposed to be in the jealous keeping of the master of the house
himself. That safe was in its turn so ingeniously hidden that I never
should have found it for myself. I well remember how one who showed it
to me (in the innocence of her heart) laughed as she assured me that
even her little trinkets were solemnly locked up in it every night. It
had been let into the wall behind one end of the book-case, expressly
to preserve the barbaric splendor of Mrs. Carruthers; without a doubt
these Lochmabens would use it for the same purpose; and in the altered
circumstances I had no hesitation in giving Raffles all the
information he desired. I even drew him a rough plan of the
ground-floor on the back of my menu-card.
"It was rather clever of you to notice the kind of locks on the inner
doors," he remarked as he put it in his pocket. "I suppose you don't
remember if it was a Yale on the front door as well?"
"It was not," I was able to answer quite promptly. "I happen to know
because I once had the key when--when we went to a theatre together."
"Thank you, old chap," said Raffles sympathetically. "That's all I
shall want from you, Bunny, my boy. There's no night like to-night!"
It was one of his sayings when bent upon his worst. I looked at him
aghast. Our cigars were just in blast, yet already he was signalling
for his bill. It was impossible to remonstrate with him until we were
both outside in the street.
"I'm coming with you," said I, running my arm through his.
"Nonsense, Bunny!"
"Why is it nonsense? I know every inch of the ground, and since the
house has changed hands I have no compunction. Besides, 'I have been
there' in the other sense as well: once a thief, you know! In for a
penny, in for a pound!"
It was ever my mood when the blood was up. But my old friend failed
to appreciate the characteristic as he usually did. We crossed Regent
Street in silence. I had to catch his sleeve to keep a hand in his
inhospitable arm.
"I really think you had better stay away," said Raffles as we reached
the other curb. "I've no use for you this time."
"Yet I thought I had been so useful up to now?"
"That may be, Bunny, but I tell you frankly I don't want you
to-night."
"Yet I know the ground and you don't! I tell you what," said I: "I'll
come just to show you the ropes, and I won't take a pennyweight of the
swag."
Such was the teasing fashion in which he invariably prevailed upon me;
it was delightful to note how it caused him to yield in his turn. But
Raffles had the grace to give in with a laugh, whereas I too often
lost my temper with my point.
"You little rabbit!" he chuckled. "You shall have your share, whether
you come or not; but, seriously, don't you think you might remember
the girl?"
"What's the use?" I groaned. "You agree there is nothing for it but to
give her up. I am glad to say that for myself before I asked you, and
wrote to tell her so on Sunday. Now it's Wednesday, and she hasn't
answered by line or sign. It's waiting for one word from her that's
driving me mad."
"Perhaps you wrote to Palace Gardens?"
"No, I sent it to the country. There's been time for an answer,
wherever she may be."
We had reached the Albany, and halted with one accord at the
Piccadilly portico, red cigar to red cigar.
"You wouldn't like to go and see if the answer's in your rooms?" he
asked.
"No. What's the good? Where's the point in giving her up if I'm going
to straighten out when it's too late? It _is_ too late, I _have_ given
her up, and I _am_ coming with you!"
The hand that bowled the most puzzling ball in England (once it found
its length) descended on my shoulder with surprising promptitude.
"Very well, Bunny! That's finished; but your blood be on your own pate
if evil comes of it. Meanwhile we can't do better than turn in here
till you have finished your cigar as it deserves, and topped up with
such a cup of tea as you must learn to like if you hope to get on in
your new profession. And when the hours are small enough, Bunny, my
boy, I don't mind admitting I shall be very glad to have you with me."
I have a vivid memory of the interim in his rooms. I think it must
have been the first and last of its kind that I was called upon to
sustain with so much knowledge of what lay before me. I passed the
time with one restless eye upon the clock, and the other on the
Tantalus which Raffles ruthlessly declined to unlock. He admitted that
it was like waiting with one's pads on; and in my slender experience
of the game of which he was a world's master, that was an ordeal not
to be endured without a general quaking of the inner man. I was, on
the other hand, all right when I got to the metaphorical wicket; and
half the surprises that Raffles sprung on me were doubtless due to his
early recognition of the fact.
On this occasion I fell swiftly and hopelessly out of love with the
prospect I had so gratuitously embraced. It was not only my repugnance
to enter that house in that way, which grew upon my better judgment as
the artificial enthusiasm of the evening evaporated from my veins.
Strong as that repugnance became, I had an even stronger feeling that
we were embarking on an important enterprise far too much upon the
spur of the moment. The latter qualm I had the temerity to confess to
Raffles; nor have I often loved him more than when he freely admitted
it to be the most natural feeling in the world. He assured me,
however, that he had had my Lady Lochmaben and her jewels in his mind
for several months; he had sat behind them at first nights; and long
ago determined what to take or to reject; in fine, he had only been
waiting for those topographical details which it had been my chance
privilege to supply. I now learned that he had numerous houses in a
similar state upon his list; something or other was wanting in each
case in order to complete his plans. In that of the Bond Street
jeweller it was a trusty accomplice; in the present instance, a more
intimate knowledge of the house. And lastly, this was a Wednesday
night, when the tired legislator gets early to his bed.
How I wish I could make the whole world see and hear him, and smell
the smoke of his beloved Sullivan, as he took me into these, the
secrets of his infamous trade! Neither look nor language would betray
the infamy. As a mere talker, I shall never listen to the like of
Raffles on this side of the sod; and his talk was seldom garnished by
an oath, never in my remembrance by the unclean word. Then he looked
like a man who had dressed to dine out, not like one who had long
since dined; for his curly hair, though longer than another's, was
never untidy in its length; and these were the days when it was still
as black as ink. Nor were there many lines as yet upon the smooth and
mobile face; and its frame was still that dear den of disorder and
good taste, with the carved book-case, the dresser and chests of still
older oak, and the Wattses and Rossettis hung anyhow on the walls.
It must have been one o'clock before we drove in a hansom as far as
Kensington Church, instead of getting down at the gates of our private
road to ruin. Constitutionally shy of the direct approach, Raffles was
further deterred by a ball in full swing at the Empress Rooms, whence
potential witnesses were pouring between dances into the cool deserted
street. Instead he led me a little way up Church Street, and so
through the narrow passage into Palace Gardens. He knew the house as
well as I did. We made our first survey from the other side of the
road. And the house was not quite in darkness; there was a dim light
over the door, a brighter one in the stables, which stood still
farther back from the road.
"That's a bit of a bore," said Raffles. "The ladies have been out
somewhere--trust them to spoil the show! They would get to bed before
the stable folk, but insomnia is the curse of their sex and our
profession. Somebody's not home yet; that will be the son of the
house; but he's a beauty, who may not come home at all."
"Another Alick Carruthers," I murmured, recalling the one I liked
least of all the household, as I remembered it.
"They might be brothers," rejoined Raffles, who knew all the loose
fish about town. "Well, I'm not sure that I shall want you after all,
Bunny."
"Why not?"
"If the front door's only on the latch, and you're right about the
lock, I shall walk in as though I were the son of the house myself."
And he jingled the skeleton bunch that he carried on a chain as honest
men carry their latch-keys.
"You forget the inner doors and the safe."
"True. You might be useful to me there. But I still don't like leading
you in where it isn't absolutely necessary, Bunny."
"Then let me lead you," I answered, and forthwith marched across the
broad, secluded road, with the great houses standing back on either
side in their ample gardens, as though the one opposite belonged to
me. I thought Raffles had stayed behind, for I never heard him at my
heels, yet there he was when I turned round at the gate.
"I must teach you the step," he whispered, shaking his head. "You
shouldn't use your heel at all. Here's a grass border for you: walk it
as you would the plank! Gravel makes a noise, and flower-beds tell a
tale. Wait--I must carry you across this."
It was the sweep of the drive, and in the dim light from above the
door, the soft gravel, ploughed into ridges by the night's wheels,
threatened an alarm at every step. Yet Raffles, with me in his arms,
crossed the zone of peril softly as the pard.
"Shoes in your pocket--that's the beauty of pumps!" he whispered on
the step; his light bunch tinkled faintly; a couple of keys he stooped
and tried, with the touch of a humane dentist; the third let us into
the porch. And as we stood together on the mat, as he was gradually
closing the door, a clock within chimed a half-hour in fashion so
thrillingly familiar to me that I caught Raffles by the arm. My
half-hours of happiness had flown to just such chimes! I looked wildly
about me in the dim light. Hat-stand and oak settee belonged equally
to my past. And Raffles was smiling in my face as he held the door
wide for my escape.
"You told me a lie!" I gasped in whispers.
"I did nothing of the sort," he replied. "The furniture's the
furniture of Hector Carruthers, but the house is the house of Lord
Lochmaben. Look here!"
He had stooped, and was smoothing out the discarded envelope of a
telegram. "Lord Lochmaben," I read in pencil by the dim light; and the
case was plain to me on the spot. My friends had let their house,
furnished, as anybody but Raffles would have explained to me in the
beginning.
"All right," I said. "Shut the door."
And he not only shut it without a sound, but drew a bolt that might
have been sheathed in rubber.
In another minute we were at work upon the study-door, I with the tiny
lantern and the bottle of rock-oil, he with the brace and the largest
bit. The Yale lock he had given up at a glance. It was placed high up
in the door, feet above the handle, and the chain of holes with which
Raffles had soon surrounded it were bored on a level with his eyes.
Yet the clock in the hall chimed again, and two ringing strokes
resounded through the silent house before we gained admittance to the
room.
Raffle's next care was to muffle the bell on the shuttered window
(with a silk handkerchief from the hat-stand) and to prepare an
emergency exit by opening first the shutters and then the window
itself. Luckily it was a still night, and very little wind came in to
embarrass us. He then began operations on the safe, revealed by me
behind its folding screen of books, while I stood sentry on the
threshold. I may have stood there for a dozen minutes, listening to
the loud hall clock and to the gentle dentistry of Raffles in the
mouth of the safe behind me, when a third sound thrilled my every
nerve. It was the equally cautious opening of a door in the gallery
overhead.
I moistened my lips to whisper a word of warning to Raffles. But his
ears had been as quick as mine, and something longer. His lantern
darkened as I turned my head; next moment I felt his breath upon the
back of my neck. It was now too late even for a whisper, and quite out
of the question to close the mutilated door. There we could only
stand, I on the threshold, Raffles at my elbow, while one carrying a
candle crept down the stairs.
The study-door was at right angles to the lowest flight, and just to
the right of one alighting in the hall. It was thus impossible for us
to see who it was until the person was close abreast of us; but by the
rustle of the gown we knew that it was one of the ladies, and dressed
just as she had come from theatre or ball. Insensibly I drew back as
the candle swam into our field of vision: it had not traversed many
inches when a hand was clapped firmly but silently across my mouth.
I could forgive Raffles for that, at any rate! In another breath I
should have cried aloud: for the girl with the candle, the girl in her
ball-dress, at dead of night, the girl with the letter for the post,
was the last girl on God's wide earth whom I should have chosen thus
to encounter--a midnight intruder in the very house where I had been
reluctantly received on her account!
I forgot Raffles. I forgot the new and unforgivable grudge I had
against him now. I forgot his very hand across my mouth, even before
he paid me the compliment of removing it. There was the only girl in
all the world: I had eyes and brains for no one and for nothing else.
She had neither seen nor heard us, had looked neither to the right
hand nor the left. But a small oak table stood on the opposite side of
the hall; it was to this table that she went. On it was one of those
boxes in which one puts one's letters for the post; and she stooped
to read by her candle the times at which this box was cleared.
The loud clock ticked and ticked. She was standing at her full height
now, her candle on the table, her letter in both hands, and in her
downcast face a sweet and pitiful perplexity that drew the tears to my
eyes. Through a film I saw her open the envelope so lately sealed and
read her letter once more, as though she would have altered it a
little at the last. It was too late for that; but of a sudden she
plucked a rose from her bosom, and was pressing it in with her letter
when I groaned aloud.
How could I help it? The letter was for me: of that I was as sure as
though I had been looking over her shoulder. She was as true as
tempered steel; there were not two of us to whom she wrote and sent
roses at dead of night. It was her one chance of writing to me. None
would know that she had written. And she cared enough to soften the
reproaches I had richly earned, with a red rose warm from her own warm
heart. And there, and there was I, a common thief who had broken in to
steal! Yet I was unaware that I had uttered a sound until she looked
up, startled, and the hands behind me pinned me where I stood.
I think she must have seen us, even in the dim light of the solitary
candle. Yet not a sound escaped her as she peered courageously in our
direction; neither did one of us move; but the hall clock went on and
on, every tick like the beat of a drum to bring the house about our
ears, until a minute must have passed as in some breathless dream. And
then came the awakening--with such a knocking and a ringing at the
front door as brought all three of us to our senses on the spot.
"The son of the house!" whispered Raffles in my ear, as he dragged me
back to the window he had left open for our escape. But as he leaped
out first a sharp cry stopped me at the sill. "Get back! Get back!
We're trapped!" he cried; and in the single second that I stood there,
I saw him fell one officer to the ground, and dart across the lawn
with another at his heels. A third came running up to the window. What
could I do but double back into the house? And there in the hall I met
my lost love face to face.
Till that moment she had not recognized me. I ran to catch her as she
all but fell. And my touch repelled her into life, so that she shook
me off, and stood gasping: "You, of all men! You, of all men!" until I
could bear it no more, but broke again for the study-window. "Not
that way--not that way!" she cried in an agony at that. Her hands
were upon me now. "In there, in there," she whispered, pointing and
pulling me to a mere cupboard under the stairs, where hats and coats
were hung; and it was she who shut the door on me with a sob.
Doors were already opening overhead, voices calling, voices answering,
the alarm running like wildfire from room to room. Soft feet pattered
in the gallery and down the stairs about my very ears. I do not know
what made me put on my own shoes as I heard them, but I think that I
was ready and even longing to walk out and give myself up. I need not
say what and who it was that alone restrained me. I heard her name. I
heard them crying to her as though she had fainted. I recognized the
detested voice of my _bete noir_, Alick Carruthers, thick as might be
expected of the dissipated dog, yet daring to stutter out her name.
And then I heard, without catching, her low reply; it was in answer to
the somewhat stern questioning of quite another voice; and from what
followed I knew that she had never fainted at all.
"Upstairs, miss, did he? Are you sure?"
I did not hear her answer. I conceive her as simply pointing up the
stairs. In any case, about my very ears once more, there now followed
such a patter and tramp of bare and booted feet as renewed in me a
base fear for my own skin. But voices and feet passed over my head,
went up and up, higher and higher; and I was wondering whether or not
to make a dash for it, when one light pair came running down again,
and in very despair I marched out to meet my preserver, looking as
little as I could like the abject thing I felt.
"Be quick!" she cried in a harsh whisper, and pointed peremptorily to
the porch.
But I stood stubbornly before her, my heart hardened by her hardness,
and perversely indifferent to all else. And as I stood I saw the
letter she had written, in the hand with which she pointed, crushed
into a ball.
"Quickly!" She stamped her foot. "Quickly--_if you ever cared!_"
This in a whisper, without bitterness, without contempt, but with a
sudden wild entreaty that breathed upon the dying embers of my poor
manhood. I drew myself together for the last time in her sight. I
turned, and left her as she wished--for her sake, not for mine. And as
I went I heard her tearing her letter into little pieces, and the
little pieces falling on the floor.
Then I remembered Raffles, and could have killed him for what he had
done. Doubtless by this time he was safe and snug in the Albany: what
did my fate matter to him? Never mind; this should be the end between
him and me as well; it was the end of everything, this dark night's
work! I would go and tell him so. I would jump into a cab and drive
there and then to his accursed rooms. But first I must escape from the
trap in which he had been so ready to leave me. And on the very steps
I drew back in despair. They were searching the shrubberies between
the drive and the road; a policeman's lantern kept flashing in and out
among the laurels, while a young man in evening-clothes directed him
from the gravel sweep. It was this young man whom I must dodge, but at
my first step in the gravel he wheeled round, and it was Raffles
himself.
"Hulloa!" he cried. "So you've come up to join the dance as well! Had
a look inside, have you? You'll be better employed in helping to draw
the cover in front here. It's all right, officer--only another
gentleman from the Empress Rooms."
And we made a brave show of assisting in the futile search, until the
arrival of more police, and a broad hint from an irritable sergeant,
gave us an excellent excuse for going off arm-in-arm. But it was
Raffles who had thrust his arm through mine. I shook him off as we
left the scene of shame behind.
"My dear Bunny!" he exclaimed. "Do you know what brought me back?"
I answered savagely that I neither knew nor cared.
"I had the very devil of a squeak for it," he went on. "I did the
hurdles over two or three garden-walls, but so did the flyer who was
on my tracks, and he drove me back into the straight and down to High
Street like any lamplighter. If he had only had the breath to sing out
it would have been all up with me then; as it was I pulled off my coat
the moment I was round the corner, and took a ticket for it at the
Empress Rooms."
"I suppose you had one for the dance that was going on," I growled.
Nor would it have been a coincidence for Raffles to have had a ticket
for that or any other entertainment of the London season.
"I never asked what the dance was," he returned. "I merely took the
opportunity of revising my toilet, and getting rid of that rather
distinctive overcoat, which I shall call for now. They're not too
particular at such stages of such proceedings, but I've no doubt I
should have seen someone I knew if I had gone right in. I might even
have had a turn, if only I had been less uneasy about you, Bunny."
"It was like you to come back to help me out," said I. "But to lie to
me, and to inveigle me with your lies into that house of all
houses--that was not like you, Raffles--and I never shall forgive it
or you!"
Raffles took my arm again. We were near the High Street gates of
Palace Gardens, and I was too miserable to resist an advance which I
meant never to give him an opportunity to repeat.
"Come, come, Bunny, there wasn't much inveigling about it," said he.
"I did my level best to leave you behind, but you wouldn't listen to
me."
"If you had told me the truth I should have listened fast enough," I
retorted. "But what's the use of talking? You can boast of your own
adventures after you bolted. You don't care what happened to me."
"I cared so much that I came back to see."
"You might have spared yourself the trouble! The wrong had been done.
Raffles--Raffles--don't you know who she was?"
It was my hand that gripped his arm once more.
"I guessed," he answered, gravely enough even for me.
"It was she who saved me, not you," I said. "And that is the bitterest
part of all!"
Yet I told him that part with a strange sad pride in her whom I had
lost--through him--forever. As I ended we turned into High Street; in
the prevailing stillness, the faint strains of the band reached us
from the Empress Rooms; and I hailed a crawling hansom as Raffles
turned that way.
"Bunny," said he, "it's no use saying I'm sorry. Sorrow adds insult in
a case like this--if ever there was or will be such another! Only
believe me, Bunny, when I swear to you that I had not the smallest
shadow of a suspicion that _she_ was in the house."
And in my heart of hearts I did believe him; but I could not bring
myself to say the words.
"You told me yourself that you had written to her in the country," he
pursued.
"And that letter!" I rejoined, in a fresh wave of bitterness: "that
letter she had written at dead of night, and stolen down to post, it
was the one I have been waiting for all these days! I should have got
it to-morrow. Now I shall never get it, never hear from her again, nor
have another chance in this world or in the next. I don't say it was
all your fault. You no more knew that she was there than I did. But
you told me a deliberate lie about her people, and that I never shall
forgive."
I spoke as vehemently as I could under my breath. The hansom was
waiting at the curb.
"I can say no more than I have said," returned Raffles with a shrug.
"Lie or no lie, I didn't tell it to bring you with me, but to get you
to give me certain information without feeling a beast about it. But,
as a matter of fact, it was no lie about old Hector Carruthers and
Lord Lochmaben, and anybody but you would have guessed the truth."
"What is the truth?"
"I as good as told you, Bunny, again and again."
"Then tell me now."
"If you read your paper there would be no need; but if you want to
know, old Carruthers headed the list of the Birthday Honors, and Lord
Lochmaben is the title of his choice."
And this miserable quibble was not a lie! My lip curled, I turned my
back without a word, and drove home to my Mount Street flat in a new
fury of savage scorn. Not a lie, indeed! It was the one that is half a
truth, the meanest lie of all, and the very last to which I could
have dreamt that Raffles would stoop. So far there had been a degree
of honor between us, if only of the kind understood to obtain between
thief and thief. Now all that was at an end. Raffles had cheated me.
Raffles had completed the ruin of my life. I was done with Raffles, as
she who shall not be named was done with me.
And yet, even while I blamed him most bitterly, and utterly abominated
his deceitful deed, I could not but admit in my heart that the result
was out of all proportion to the intent: he had never dreamt of doing
me this injury, or indeed any injury at all. Intrinsically the deceit
had been quite venial, the reason for it obviously the reason that
Raffles had given me. It was quite true that he had spoken of this
Lochmaben peerage as a new creation, and of the heir to it in a
fashion only applicable to Alick Carruthers. He had given me hints,
which I had been too dense to take, and he had certainly made more
than one attempt to deter me from accompanying him on this fatal
emprise; had he been more explicit, I might have made it my business
to deter him. I could not say in my heart that Raffles had failed to
satisfy such honor as I might reasonably expect to subsist between us.
Yet it seems to me to require a superhuman sanity always and
unerringly to separate cause from effect, achievement from intent.
And I, for one, was never quite able to do so in this case.
I could not be accused of neglecting my newspaper during the next few
wretched days. I read every word that I could find about the attempted
jewel-robbery in Palace Gardens, and the reports afforded me my sole
comfort. In the first place, it was only an attempted robbery; nothing
had been taken, after all. And then--and then--the one member of the
household who had come nearest to a personal encounter with either of
us was unable to furnish any description of the man--had even
expressed a doubt as to the likelihood of identification in the event
of an arrest!
I will not say with what mingled feelings I read and dwelt on that
announcement. It kept a certain faint glow alive within me until the
morning brought me back the only presents I had ever made her. They
were books; jewellery had been tabooed by the authorities. And the
books came back without a word, though the parcel was directed in her
hand.
I had made up my mind not to go near Raffles again, but in my heart I
already regretted my resolve. I had forfeited love, I had sacrificed
honor, and now I must deliberately alienate myself from the one being
whose society might yet be some recompense for all that I had lost.
The situation was aggravated by the state of my exchequer. I expected
an ultimatum from my banker by every post. Yet this influence was
nothing to the other. It was Raffles I loved. It was not the dark life
we led together, still less its base rewards; it was the man himself,
his gayety, his humor, his dazzling audacity, his incomparable courage
and resource. And a very horror of turning to him again in mere need
of greed set the seal on my first angry resolution. But the anger was
soon gone out of me, and when at length Raffles bridged the gap by
coming to me, I rose to greet him almost with a shout.
He came as though nothing had happened; and, indeed, not very many
days had passed, though they might have been months to me. Yet I
fancied the gaze that watched me through our smoke a trifle less sunny
than it had been before. And it was a relief to me when he came with
few preliminaries to the inevitable point.
"Did you ever hear from her, Bunny?" he asked.
"In a way," I answered. "We won't talk about it, if you don't mind,
Raffles."
"That sort of way!" he exclaimed. He seemed both surprised and
disappointed.
"Yes," I said, "that sort of way. It's finished. What did you expect?"
"I don't know," said Raffles. "I only thought that the girl who went
so far to get a fellow out of a tight place might go a little farther
to keep him from getting into another."
"I don't see why she should," said I, honestly enough, yet with the
irritation of a less just feeling deep down in my inmost
consciousness.
"Yet you did hear from her?" he persisted.
"She sent me back my poor presents, without a word," I said, "if you
call that hearing."
I could not bring myself to own to Raffles that I had given her only
books. He asked if I was sure that she had sent them back herself; and
that was his last question. My answer was enough for him. And to this
day I cannot say whether it was more in relief than in regret that he
laid a hand upon my shoulder.
"So you are out of Paradise after all!" said Raffles. "I was not sure,
or I should have come round before. Well, Bunny, if they don't want
you there, there's a little Inferno in the Albany where you will be as
welcome as ever!"
And still, with all the magic mischief of his smile, there was that
touch of sadness which I was yet to read aright.
The Chest of Silver
Like all the tribe of which I held him head, Raffles professed the
liveliest disdain for unwieldy plunder of any description; it might be
old Sheffield, or it might be solid silver or gold, but if the thing
was not to be concealed about the person, he would have none whatever
of it. Unlike the rest of us, however, in this as in all else, Raffles
would not infrequently allow the acquisitive spirit of the mere
collector to silence the dictates of professional prudence. The old
oak chests, and even the mahogany wine-cooler, for which he had
doubtless paid like an honest citizen, were thus immovable with pieces
of crested plate, which he had neither the temerity to use nor the
hardihood to melt or sell. He could but gloat over them behind locked
doors, as I used to tell him, and at last one afternoon I caught him
at it. It was in the year after that of my novitiate, a halcyon period
at the Albany, when Raffles left no crib uncracked, and I played
second-murderer every time. I had called in response to a telegram in
which he stated that he was going out of town, and must say good-by
to me before he went. And I could only think that he was inspired by
the same impulse toward the bronzed salvers and the tarnished teapots
with which I found him surrounded, until my eyes lit upon the enormous
silver-chest into which he was fitting them one by one.
"Allow me, Bunny! I shall take the liberty of locking both doors
behind you and putting the key in my pocket," said Raffles, when he
had let me in. "Not that I mean to take you prisoner, my dear fellow;
but there are those of us who can turn keys from the outside, though
it was never an accomplishment of mine."
"Not Crawshay again?" I cried, standing still in my hat.
Raffles regarded me with that tantalizing smile of his which might
mean nothing, yet which often meant so much; and in a flash I was
convinced that our most jealous enemy and dangerous rival, the doyen
of an older school, had paid him yet another visit.
"That remains to be seen," was the measured reply; "and I for one have
not set naked eye on the fellow since I saw him off through that
window and left myself for dead on this very spot. In fact, I imagined
him comfortably back in jail."
"Not old Crawshay!" said I. "He's far too good a man to be taken
twice. I should call him the very prince of professional cracksmen."
"Should you?" said Raffles coldly, with as cold an eye looking into
mine. "Then you had better prepare to repel princes when I'm gone."
"But gone where?" I asked, finding a corner for my hat and coat, and
helping myself to the comforts of the venerable dresser which was one
of our friend's greatest treasures. "Where is it you are off to, and
why are you taking this herd of white elephants with you?"
Raffles bestowed the cachet of his smile on my description of his
motley plate. He joined me in one of his favorite cigarettes, only
shaking a superior head at his own decanter.
"One question at a time, Bunny," said he. "In the first place, I am
going to have these rooms freshened up with a potful of paint, the
electric light, and the telephone you've been at me about so long."
"Good!" I cried. "Then we shall be able to talk to each other day and
night!"
"And get overheard and run in for our pains? I shall wait till you
_are_ run in, I think," said Raffles cruelly. "But the rest's a
necessity: not that I love new paint or am pining for electric light,
but for reasons which I will just breathe in your private ear, Bunny.
You must not try to take them too seriously; but the fact is, there is
just the least bit of a twitter against me in this rookery of an
Albany. It must have been started by that tame old bird, Policeman
Mackenzie; it isn't very bad as yet, but it needn't be that to reach
my ears. Well, it was open to me either to clear out altogether, and
so confirm whatever happened to be in the air, or to go off for a
time, under some arrangement which would give the authorities ample
excuse for overhauling every inch of my rooms. Which would you have
done, Bunny?"
"Cleared out, while I could!" said I devoutly.
"So I should have thought," rejoined Raffles. "Yet you see the merit
of my plan. I shall leave every mortal thing unlocked."
"Except that," said I, kicking the huge oak case with the iron bands
and clamps, and the baize lining fast disappearing under heavy
packages bearing the shapes of urns and candelabra.
"That," replied Raffles, "is neither to go with me nor to remain
here."
"Then what do you propose to do with it?"
"You have your banking account, and your banker," he went on. This was
perfectly true, though it was Raffles alone who had kept the one
open, and enabled me to propitiate the other in moments of emergency.
"Well?"
"Well, pay in this bundle of notes this afternoon, and say you have
had a great week at Liverpool and Lincoln; then ask them if they can
do with your silver while you run over to Paris for a merry Easter. I
should tell them it's rather heavy--a lot of old family stuff that
you've a good mind to leave with them till you marry and settle down."
I winced at this, but consented to the rest after a moment's
consideration. After all, and for more reasons that I need enumerate,
it was a plausible tale enough. And Raffles had no banker; it was
quite impossible for him to explain, across any single counter, the
large sums of hard cash which did sometimes fall into his hands; and
it might well be that he had nursed my small account in view of the
very quandary which had now arisen. On all grounds, it was impossible
for me to refuse him, and I am still glad to remember that my assent
was given, on the whole, ungrudgingly.
"But when will the chest be ready for me?" I merely asked, as I
stuffed the notes into my cigarette case. "And how are we to get it
out of this, in banking hours, without attracting any amount of
attention at this end?"
Raffles gave me an approving nod.
"I'm glad to see you spot the crux so quickly, Bunny. I have thought
of your taking it round to your place first, under cloud of night; but
we are bound to be seen even so, and on the whole it would look far
less suspicious in broad daylight. It will take you some twelve or
fifteen minutes to drive to your bank in a growler, so if you are here
with one at a quarter to ten to-morrow morning, that will exactly meet
the case. But you must have a hansom this minute if you mean to
prepare the way with those notes this afternoon!"
It was only too like the Raffles of those days to dismiss a subject
and myself in the same breath, with a sudden nod, and a brief grasp of
the hand he was already holding out for mine. I had a great mind to
take another of his cigarettes instead, for there were one or two
points on which he had carefully omitted to enlighten me. Thus, I had
still to learn the bare direction of his journey; and it was all that
I could do to drag it from him as I stood buttoning my coat and
gloves.
"Scotland," he vouchsafed at last.
"At Easter," I remarked.
"To learn the language," he explained. "I have no tongue but my own,
you see, but I try to make up for it by cultivating every shade of
that. Some of them have come in useful even to your knowledge, Bunny:
what price my Cockney that night in St. John's Wood? I can keep up my
end in stage Irish, real Devonshire, very fair Norfolk, and three
distinct Yorkshire dialects. But my good Galloway Scots might be
better, and I mean to make it so."
"You still haven't told me where to write to you."
"I'll write to you first, Bunny."
"At least let me see you off," I urged at the door. "I promise not to
look at your ticket if you tell me the train!"
"The eleven-fifty from Euston."
"Then I'll be with you by quarter to ten."
And I left him without further parley, reading his impatience in his
face. Everything, to be sure, seemed clear enough without that fuller
discussion which I loved and Raffles hated. Yet I thought we might at
least have dined together, and in my heart I felt just the least bit
hurt, until it occurred to me as I drove to count the notes in my
cigarette case. Resentment was impossible after that. The sum ran well
into three figures, and it was plain that Raffles meant me to have a
good time in his absence. So I told his lie with unction at my bank,
and made due arrangements for the reception of his chest next
morning. Then I repaired to our club, hoping he would drop in, and
that we might dine together after all. In that I was disappointed. It
was nothing, however, to the disappointment awaiting me at the Albany,
when I arrived in my four-wheeler at the appointed hour next morning.
"Mr. Raffles 'as gawn, sir," said the porter, with a note of reproach
in his confidential undertone. The man was a favorite with Raffles,
who used him and tipped him with consummate tact, and he knew me only
less well.
"Gone!" I echoed aghast. "Where on earth to?"
"Scotland, sir."
"Already?"
"By the eleven-fifty lawst night."
"Last night! I thought he meant eleven-fifty this morning!"
"He knew you did, sir, when you never came, and he told me to tell you
there was no such train."
I could have rent my garments in mortification and annoyance with
myself and Raffles. It was as much his fault as mine. But for his
indecent haste in getting rid of me, his characteristic abruptness at
the end, there would have been no misunderstanding or mistake.
"Any other message?" I inquired morosely.
"Only about the box, sir. Mr. Raffles said as you was goin' to take
chawge of it time he's away, and I've a friend ready to lend a 'and in
getting it on the cab. It's a rare 'eavy 'un, but Mr. Raffles an' me
could lift it all right between us, so I dessay me an' my friend can."
For my own part, I must confess that its weight concerned me less than
the vast size of that infernal chest, as I drove with it past club and
park at ten o'clock in the morning. Sit as far back as I might in the
four-wheeler, I could conceal neither myself nor my connection with
the huge iron-clamped case upon the roof: in my heated imagination its
wood was glass through which all the world could see the guilty
contents. Once an officious constable held up the traffic at our
approach, and for a moment I put a blood-curdling construction upon
the simple ceremony. Low boys shouted after us--or if it was not after
us, I thought it was--and that their cry was "Stop thief!" Enough said
of one of the most unpleasant cab-drives I ever had in my life.
_Horresco referens._
At the bank, however, thanks to the foresight and liberality of
Raffles, all was smooth water. I paid my cabman handsomely, gave a
florin to the stout fellow in livery whom he helped with the chest,
and could have pressed gold upon the genial clerk who laughed like a
gentleman at my jokes about the Liverpool winners and the latest
betting on the Family Plate. I was only disconcerted when he informed
me that the bank gave no receipts for deposits of this nature. I am
now aware that few London banks do. But it is pleasing to believe that
at the time I looked--what I felt--as though all I valued upon earth
were in jeopardy.