Raffles was standing over me when I recovered consciousness. I lay
stretched upon the bed across which that blackguard Belville had struck
his knavish blow. The suit-case was on the floor, but its dastardly
owner had disappeared.
“Is he gone?” was my first faint question.
“Thank God you’re not, anyway!” replied Raffles, with what struck me
then as mere flippancy. I managed to raise myself upon one elbow.
“I meant Lord Ernest Belville,” said I, with dignity. “Are you quite
sure that he’s cleared out?”
Raffles waved a hand towards the window, which stood wide open to the
summer stars.
“Of course,” said he, “and by the route I intended him to take; he’s
gone by the iron-ladder, as I hoped he would. What on earth should we
have done with him? My poor, dear Bunny, I thought you’d take a bribe!
But it’s really more convincing as it is, and just as well for Lord
Ernest to be convinced for the time being.”
“Are you sure he is?” I questioned, as I found a rather shaky pair of
legs.
“Of course!” cried Raffles again, in the tone to make one blush for the
least misgiving on the point. “Not that it matters one bit,” he added,
airily, “for we have him either way; and when he does tumble to it, as
he may any minute, he won’t dare to open his mouth.”
“Then the sooner we clear out the better,” said I, but I looked askance
at the open window, for my head was spinning still.
“When you feel up to it,” returned Raffles, “we shall _stroll_ out, and
I shall do myself the honor of ringing for the lift. The force of habit
is too strong in you, Bunny. I shall shut the window and leave
everything exactly as we found it. Lord Ernest will probably tumble
before he is badly missed; and then he may come back to put salt on us;
but I should like to know what he can do even if he succeeds! Come,
Bunny, pull yourself together, and you’ll be a different man when
you’re in the open air.”
And for a while I felt one, such was my relief at getting out of those
infernal mansions with unfettered wrists; this we managed easily
enough; but once more Raffles’s performance of a small part was no less
perfect than his more ambitious work upstairs, and something of the
successful artist’s elation possessed him as we walked arm-in-arm
across St. James’s Park. It was long since I had known him so pleased
with himself, and only too long since he had had such reason.
“I don’t think I ever had a brighter idea in my life,” he said; “never
thought of it till he was in the next room; never dreamt of its coming
off so ideally even then, and didn’t much care, because we had him all
ways up. I’m only sorry you let him knock you out. I was waiting
outside the door all the time, and it made me sick to hear it. But I
once broke my own head, Bunny, if you remember, and not in half such an
excellent cause!”
Raffles touched all his pockets in his turn, the pockets that contained
a small fortune apiece, and he smiled in my face as we crossed the
lighted avenues of the Mall. Next moment he was hailing a hansom—for I
suppose I was still pretty pale—and not a word would he let me speak
until we had alighted as near as was prudent to the flat.
“What a brute I’ve been, Bunny!” he whispered then, “but you take half
the swag, old boy, and right well you’ve earned it. No, we’ll go in by
the wrong door and over the roof; it’s too late for old Theobald to be
still at the play, and too early for him to be safely in his cups.”
So we climbed the many stairs with cat-like stealth, and like cats
crept out upon the grimy leads. But to-night they were no blacker than
their canopy of sky; not a chimney-stack stood out against the starless
night; one had to feel one’s way in order to avoid tripping over the
low parapets of the L-shaped wells that ran from roof to basement to
light the inner rooms. One of these wells was spanned by a flimsy
bridge with iron handrails that felt warm to the touch as Raffles led
the way across! A hotter and a closer night I have never known.
“The flat will be like an oven,” I grumbled, at the head of our own
staircase.
“Then we won’t go down,” said Raffles, promptly; “we’ll slack it up
here for a bit instead. No, Bunny, you stay where you are! I’ll fetch
you a drink and a deck-chair, and you shan’t come down till you feel
more fit.”
And I let him have his way, I will not say as usual, for I had even
less than my normal power of resistance that night. That villainous
upper-cut! My head still sang and throbbed, as I seated myself on one
of the aforesaid parapets, and buried it in my hot hands. Nor was the
night one to dispel a headache; there was distinct thunder in the air.
Thus I sat in a heap, and brooded over my misadventure, a pretty figure
of a subordinate villain, until the step came for which I waited; and
it never struck me that it came from the wrong direction.
“You have been quick,” said I, simply.
“Yes,” hissed a voice I recognized; “and you’ve got to be quicker
still! Here, out with your wrists; no, one at a time; and if you utter
a syllable you’re a dead man.”
It was Lord Ernest Belville; his close-cropped, iron-gray moustache
gleamed through the darkness, drawn up over his set teeth. In his hand
glittered a pair of handcuffs, and before I knew it one had snapped its
jaws about my right wrist.
“Now come this way,” said Lord Ernest, showing me a revolver also, “and
wait for your friend. And, recollect, a single syllable of warning will
be your death!”
With that the ruffian led me to the very bridge I had just crossed at
Raffles’s heels, and handcuffed me to the iron rail midway across the
chasm. It no longer felt warm to my touch, but icy as the blood in all
my veins.
So this high-born hypocrite had beaten us at our game and his, and
Raffles had met his match at last! That was the most intolerable
thought, that Raffles should be down in the flat on my account, and
that I could not warn him of his impending fate; for how was it
possible without making such an outcry as should bring the mansions
about our ears? And there I shivered on that wretched plank, chained
like Andromeda to the rock, with a black infinity above and below; and
before my eyes, now grown familiar with the peculiar darkness, stood
Lord Ernest Belville, waiting for Raffles to emerge with full hands and
unsuspecting heart! Taken so horribly unawares, even Raffles must fall
an easy prey to a desperado in resource and courage scarcely second to
himself, but one whom he had fatally underrated from the beginning. Not
that I paused to think how the thing had happened; my one concern was
for what was to happen next.
And what did happen was worse than my worst foreboding, for first a
light came flickering into the sort of companion-hatch at the head of
the stairs, and finally Raffles—in his shirt-sleeves! He was not only
carrying a candle to put the finishing touch to him as a target; he had
dispensed with coat and waistcoat downstairs, and was at once
full-handed and unarmed.
“Where are you, old chap?” he cried, softly, himself blinded by the
light he carried; and he advanced a couple of steps towards Belville.
“This isn’t you, is it?”
And Raffles stopped, his candle held on high, a folding chair under the
other arm.
“No, I am not your friend,” replied Lord Ernest, easily; “but kindly
remain standing exactly where you are, and don’t lower that candle an
inch, unless you want your brains blown into the street.”
Raffles said never a word, but for a moment did as he was bid; and the
unshaken flame of the candle was testimony alike to the stillness of
the night and to the finest set of nerves in Europe. Then, to my
horror, he coolly stooped, placing candle and chair on the leads, and
his hands in his pockets, as though it were but a popgun that covered
him.
“Why didn’t you shoot?” he asked insolently as he rose. “Frightened of
the noise? I should be, too, with an old-pattern machine like that. All
very well for service in the field—but on the house-tops at dead of
night!”
“I shall shoot, however,” replied Lord Ernest, as quietly in his turn,
and with less insolence, “and chance the noise, unless you instantly
restore my property. I am glad you don’t dispute the last word,” he
continued after a slight pause. “There is no keener honor than that
which subsists, or ought to subsist, among thieves; and I need hardly
say that I soon spotted you as one of the fraternity. Not in the
beginning, mind you! For the moment I did think you were one of these
smart detectives jumped to life from some sixpenny magazine; but to
preserve the illusion you ought to provide yourself with a worthier
lieutenant. It was he who gave your show away,” chuckled the wretch,
dropping for a moment the affected style of speech which seemed
intended to enhance our humiliation; “smart detectives don’t go about
with little innocents to assist them. You needn’t be anxious about him,
by the way; it wasn’t necessary to pitch him into the street; he is to
be seen though not heard, if you look in the right direction. Nor must
you put all the blame upon your friend; it was not he, but you, who
made so sure that I had got out by the window. You see, I was in my
bathroom all the time—with the door open.”
“The bathroom, eh?” Raffles echoed with professional interest. “And you
followed us on foot across the park?”
“Of course.”
“And then in a cab?”
“And afterwards on foot once more.”
“The simplest skeleton would let you in down below.”
I saw the lower half of Lord Ernest’s face grinning in the light of the
candle set between them on the ground.
“You follow every move,” said he; “there can be no doubt you are one of
the fraternity; and I shouldn’t wonder if we had formed our style upon
the same model. Ever know A. J. Raffles?”
The abrupt question took my breath away; but Raffles himself did not
lose an instant over his answer.
“Intimately,” said he.
“That accounts for you, then,” laughed Lord Ernest, “as it does for me,
though I never had the honor of the master’s acquaintance. Nor is it
for me to say which is the worthier disciple. Perhaps, however, now
that your friend is handcuffed in mid-air, and you yourself are at my
mercy, you will concede me some little temporary advantage?”
And his face split in another grin from the cropped moustache downward,
as I saw no longer by candlelight but by a flash of lightning which
tore the sky in two before Raffles could reply.
“You have the bulge at present,” admitted Raffles; “but you have still
to lay hands upon your, or our, ill-gotten goods. To shoot me is not
necessarily to do so; to bring either one of us to a violent end is
only to court a yet more violent and infinitely more disgraceful one
for yourself. Family considerations alone should rule that risk out of
your game. Now, an hour or two ago, when the exact opposite—”
The remainder of Raffles’s speech was drowned from my ears by the
belated crash of thunder which the lightning had foretold. So loud,
however, was the crash when it came, that the storm was evidently
approaching us at a high velocity; yet as the last echo rumbled away, I
heard Raffles talking as though he had never stopped.
“You offered us a share,” he was saying; “unless you mean to murder us
both in cold blood, it will be worth your while to repeat that offer.
We should be dangerous enemies; you had far better make the best of us
as friends.”
“Lead the way down to your flat,” said Lord Ernest, with a flourish of
his service revolver, “and perhaps we may talk about it. It is for me
to make the terms, I imagine, and in the first place I am not going to
get wet to the skin up here.”
The rain was beginning in great drops, even as he spoke, and by a
second flash of lightning I saw Raffles pointing to me.
“But what about my friend?” said he.
And then came the second peal.
“Oh, _he’s_ all right,” the great brute replied; “do him good! You
don’t catch me letting myself in for two to one!”
“You will find it equally difficult,” rejoined Raffles, “to induce me
to leave my friend to the mercy of a night like this. He has not
recovered from the blow you struck him in your own rooms. I am not such
a fool as to blame you for that, but you are a worse sportsman than I
take you for if you think of leaving him where he is. If he stays,
however, so do I.”
And, just as it ceased, Raffles’s voice seemed distinctly nearer to me;
but in the darkness and the rain, which was now as heavy as hail, I
could see nothing clearly. The rain had already extinguished the
candle. I heard an oath from Belville, a laugh from Raffles, and for a
second that was all. Raffles was coming to me, and the other could not
even see to fire; that was all I knew in the pitchy interval of
invisible rain before the next crash and the next flash.
And then!
This time they came together, and not till my dying hour shall I forget
the sight that the lightning lit and the thunder applauded. Raffles was
on one of the parapets of the gulf that my foot-bridge spanned, and in
the sudden illumination he stepped across it as one might across a
garden path. The width was scarcely greater, but the depth! In the
sudden flare I saw to the concrete bottom of the well, and it looked no
larger than the hollow of my hand. Raffles was laughing in my ear; he
had the iron railing fast; it was between us, but his foothold was as
secure as mine. Lord Ernest Belville, on the contrary, was the fifth of
a second late for the light, and half a foot short in his spring.
Something struck our plank bridge so hard as to set it quivering like a
harp-string; there was half a gasp and half a sob in mid-air beneath
our feet; and then a sound far below that I prefer not to describe. I
am not sure that I could hit upon the perfect simile; it is more than
enough for me that I can hear it still. And with that sickening sound
came the loudest clap of thunder yet, and a great white glare that
showed us our enemy’s body far below, with one white hand spread like a
starfish, but the head of him mercifully twisted underneath.
“It was all his own fault, Bunny. Poor devil! May he and all of us be
forgiven; but pull yourself together for your own sake. Well, you can’t
fall; stay where you are a minute.”
I remember the uproar of the elements while Raffles was gone; no other
sound mingled with it; not the opening of a single window, not the
uplifting of a single voice. Then came Raffles with soap and water, and
the gyve was wheedled from one wrist, as you withdraw a ring for which
the finger has grown too large. Of the rest, I only remember shivering
till morning in a pitch-dark flat, whose invalid occupier was for once
the nurse, and I his patient.
And that is the true ending of the episode in which we two set
ourselves to catch one of our own kidney, albeit in another place I
have shirked the whole truth. It is not a grateful task to show Raffles
as completely at fault as he really was on that occasion; nor do I
derive any subtle satisfaction from recounting my own twofold
humiliation, or from having assisted never so indirectly in the death
of a not uncongenial sinner. The truth, however, has after all a merit
of its own, and the great kinsfolk of poor Lord Ernest have but little
to lose by its divulgence. It would seem that they knew more of the
real character of the apostle of Rational Drink than was known at
Exeter Hall. The tragedy was indeed hushed up, as tragedies only are
when they occur in such circles. But the rumor that did get abroad, as
to the class of enterprise which the poor scamp was pursuing when he
met his death, cannot be too soon exploded, since it breathed upon the
fair fame of some of the most respectable flats in Kensington.