“And since then, I say!”
“A relative of mine will tell you if you ask him. He is an eminent man,
and he has promised to speak for me. I would rather say no more
myself.”
“But you shall, sir, but you shall! Do you suppose that I suppose a
public-school boy would apply for a berth like this if something or
other hadn’t happened? What I want is a gentleman of sorts, and I don’t
much care what sort; but you’ve got to tell me what did happen, if you
don’t tell anybody else. Dr. Theobald, sir, you can go to the devil if
you won’t take a hint. This man may do or he may not. You have no more
to say to it till I send him down to tell you one thing or the other.
Clear out, sir, clear out; and if you think you’ve anything to complain
of, you stick it down in the bill!”
In the mild excitement of our interview the thin voice had gathered
strength, and the last shrill insult was screamed after the devoted
medico, as he retired in such order that I felt certain he was going to
take this trying patient at his word. The bedroom door closed, then the
outer one, and the doctor’s heels went drumming down the common stair.
I was alone in the flat with this highly singular and rather terrible
old man.
“And a damned good riddance!” croaked the invalid, raising himself on
one elbow without delay. “I may not have much body left to boast about,
but at least I’ve got a lost old soul to call my own. That’s why I want
a gentleman of sorts about me. I’ve been too dependent on that chap. He
won’t even let me smoke, and he’s been in the flat all day to see I
didn’t. You’ll find the cigarettes behind the Madonna of the Chair.”
It was a steel engraving of the great Raffaelle, and the frame was
tilted from the wall; at a touch a packet of cigarettes tumbled down
from behind.
“Thanks; and now a light.”
I struck the match and held it, while the invalid inhaled with normal
lips; and suddenly I sighed. I was irresistibly reminded of my poor
dear old Raffles. A smoke-ring worthy of the great A. J. was floating
upward from the sick man’s lips.
“And now take one yourself. I have smoked more poisonous cigarettes.
But even these are not Sullivans!”
I cannot repeat what I said. I have no idea what I did. I only know—I
only knew—that it was A. J. Raffles in the flesh!