"My Raffles Right or Wrong"
The historic sward had just been cleared for action when Raffles and I
met at Lord's next day. I blush to own I had been knave and fool enough
to suggest that he should smuggle me into the pavilion; but perhaps the
only laws of man that Raffles really respected were those of the M.C.C.,
and it was in Block B. that he joined me a minute or so before eleven.
The sun was as strong and the sky as blue as though the disastrous day
before had been just such another. But its tropical shower-bath had left
the London air as cleanly and as clear as crystal; the neutral tints of
every day were splashes of vivid colour, the waiting umpires animated
snow-men, the heap of sawdust at either end a pyramid of powdered gold
upon an emerald ground. And in the expectant hush before the appearance
of the fielding side, I still recall the Yorkshire accent of the Surrey
Poet, hawking his latest lyric on some "Great Stand by Mr. Webbe and Mr.
Stoddart," and incidentally assuring the crowd that Cambridge was going
to win because everybody said Oxford would.
"Just in time," said Raffles, as he sat down and the Cambridge men
emerged from the pavilion, capped and sashed in varying shades of light
blue. The captain's colours were bleached by service; but the
wicket-keeper's were the newest and the bluest of the lot, and as a male
historian I shrink from saying how well they suited him.
"Teddy Garland looks as though nothing had happened," was what I said at
the time, as I peered through my binocular at the padded figure with the
pink face and the gigantic gloves.
"That's because he knows there's a chance of nothing more happening," was
the reply. "I've seen him and his poor old governor up here since I saw
Dan Levy."
I eagerly inquired as to the upshot of the earlier interview, but Raffles
looked as though he had not heard. The Oxford captain had come out to
open the innings with a player less known to fame; the first ball of the
match hurtled down the pitch, and the Oxford captain left it severely
alone. Teddy took it charmingly, and almost with the same movement the
ball was back in the bowler's hands.
"_He's_ all right!" muttered Raffles with a long breath. "So is our Mr.
Shylock, Bunny; we fixed things up in no time after all. But the worst of
it is I shall only be able to stop--"
He broke off, mouth open as it might have been mine. A ball had been
driven hard to extra cover, and quite well fielded; another had been
taken by Teddy as competently as the first, but not returned to the
bowler. The Oxford captain had played at it, and we heard something even
in Block B.
"How's that?" came almost simultaneously in Teddy's ringing voice. Up
went the umpire's finger, and down came Raffles's hand upon my thigh.
"He's caught him, Bunny!" he cried in my ear above the Cambridge cheers.
"The best bat on either side, and Teddy's outed him third ball!" He
stopped to watch the defeated captain's slow return, the demonstration on
the pitch in Teddy's honour; then he touched me on the arm and dropped
his voice. "He's forgotten all his troubles now, Bunny, if you like;
nothing's going to worry him till lunch, unless he misses a sitting
chance. And he won't, you'll see; a good start means even more behind the
sticks than in front of 'em."
Raffles was quite right. Another wicket fell cheaply in another way; then
came a long spell of plucky cricket, a stand not masterly but dogged and
judicious, in which many a ball outside the off-stump was allowed to pass
unmolested, and a few were unfortunate in just beating the edge of the
bat. On the tricky wicket Teddy's work was cut out for him, and
beautifully he did it. It was a treat to see his lithe form crouching
behind the bails, to rise next instant with the rising ball; his great
gloves were always in the right place, always adhesive. Once only he held
them up prematurely, and a fine ball brushed the wicket on its way for
four byes; it was his sole error all the morning. Raffles sat enchanted;
so in truth did I; but between the overs I endeavoured to obtain
particulars of his latest parley with Dan Levy, and once or twice
extracted a stray detail.
"The old sinner has a place on the river, Bunny, though I have my
suspicions of a second establishment nearer town. But I'm to find him at
his lawful home all the next few nights, and sitting up for me till two
in the morning."
"Then you're going to Gray's Inn Square this week?"
"I'm going there this morning for a peep at the crib; there's no time to
be lost, but on the other hand there's a devil of a lot to learn. I say,
Bunny, there's going to be another change of bowling; the fast stuff,
too, by Jove!"
A massive youth had taken the ball at the top end, and the wicket-keeper
was retiring to a more respectful distance behind the stumps.
"You'll let me know when it's to be?" I whispered, but Raffles only
answered, "I wonder Jack Studley didn't wait till there was more of a
crust on the mud pie. That tripe's no use without a fast wicket!"
The technical slang of the modern cricket-field is ever a weariness; at
the moment it was something worse, and I resigned myself to the silent
contemplation of as wild an over as ever was bowled at Lord's. A shocking
thing to the off was sent skipping past point for four. "Tripe!" muttered
Raffles to himself. A very good one went over the bails and thud into
Garland's gloves like a round-shot. "Well bowled!" said Raffles with less
reserve. Another delivery was merely ignored, both at the wicket and at
my side, and then came a high full-pitch to leg which the batsman hit
hard but very late. It was a hit that might have smashed the pavilion
palings. But it never reached them; it stuck in Teddy's left glove
instead, and none of us knew it till we saw him staggering towards
long-leg, and tossing up the ball as he recovered balance.
"That's the worst ball that ever took a wicket in this match!" vowed a
reverend veteran as the din died down.
"And the best catch!" cried Raffles. "Come on, Bunny; that's my _nunc
dimittis_ for the day. There would be nothing to compare with it if I
could stop to see every ball bowled, and I mustn't see another."
"But why?" I asked, as I followed Raffles into the press behind the
carriages.
"I've already told you why," said he.
I got as close to him as one could in that crowd.
"You're not thinking of doing it to-night, A.J.?"
"I don't know."
"But you'll let _me_ know?"
"Not if I can help it, Bunny; didn't I promise not to drag you any
further through this particular mire?"
"But if _I_ can help _you_?" I whispered, after a momentary separation in
the throng.
"Oh! if I can't get on without you," said Raffles, not nicely, "I'll let
you know fast enough. But do drop the subject now; here come old Garland
and Camilla Belsize!"
They did not see us quite so soon as we saw them, and for a moment one
felt a spy; but it was an interesting moment even to a person smarting
from a snub. The ruined man looked haggard, ill, unfit to be about, the
very embodiment of the newspaper report concerning him. But the spirit
beamed through the shrinking flesh, the poor old fellow was alight with
pride and love, exultant in spite of himself and his misfortunes. He had
seen his boy's great catch; he had heard the cheers, he would hear them
till his dying hour. Camilla Belsize had also seen and heard, but not
with the same exquisite appreciation. Cricket was a game to her, it was
not that quintessence and epitome of life it would seem to be to some of
its devotees; and real life was pressing so heavily upon her that the
trivial consolation which had banished her companion's load could not
lighten hers. So at least I thought as they approached, the man so worn
and radiant, the girl so pensive for all her glorious youth and beauty:
his was the old head bowed with sorrow, his also the simpler and the
younger heart.
"That catch will console me for a lot," I heard him say quite heartily to
Raffles. But Camilla's comment was altogether perfunctory; indeed, I
wondered that so sophisticated a person did not affect some little
enthusiasm. She seemed more interested, however, in the crowd than in the
cricket. And that was usual enough.
Raffles was already saying he must go, with an explanatory murmur to Mr.
Garland, who clasped his hand with a suddenly clouded countenance. But
Miss Belsize only bowed, and scarcely took her eyes off a couple of
outwardly inferior men, who had attracted my attention through hers,
until they also passed out of the ground.
Mr. Garland was on tip-toes watching the game again with mercurial
ardour.
"Mr. Manders will look after me," she said to him, "won't you, Mr.
Manders?" I made some suitable asseveration, and she added: "Mr.
Garland's a member, you know, and dying to go into the Pavilion."
"Only just to hear what they think of Teddy," the poor old boy confessed;
and when we had arranged where to meet in the interval, away he hurried
with his keen, worn face.
Miss Belsize turned to me the moment he was gone.
"I want to speak to you, Mr. Manders," she said quickly but without
embarrassment. "Where can we talk?"
"And watch as well?" I suggested, thinking of the young man at his best
behind the sticks.
"I want to speak to you first," she said, "where we shan't be overheard.
It's about Mr. Raffles!" added Miss Belsize as she met my stare.
About Raffles again! About Raffles, after all that she had learnt the
day before! I did not enjoy the prospect as I led the way past the
ivy-mantled tennis-court of those days to the practice-ground, turned for
the nonce into a tented lawn.
"And what about Raffles?" I asked as we struck out for ourselves across
the grass.
"I'm afraid he's in some danger," replied Miss Belsize. And she stopped
in her walk and confronted me as frankly as though we had the animated
scene to ourselves.
"Danger!" I repeated, guiltily enough, no doubt. "What makes you think
that, Miss Belsize?"
My companion hesitated for the first time.
"You won't tell him I told you, Mr. Manders?"
"Not if you don't want me to," said I, taken aback more by her manner
than by the request itself.
"You promise me that?"
"Certainly."
"Then tell me, did you notice two men who passed close to us just after
we had all met?"
"There are so many men to notice," said I to gain time.
"But these were not the sort one expects to see here to-day."
"Did they wear bowlers and short coats?"
"You did notice them!"
"Only because I saw you watching them," said I, recalling the
whole scene.
"They wanted watching," rejoined Miss Belsize dryly. "They followed Mr.
Raffles out of the ground!"
"So they did!" I reflected aloud in my alarm.
"They were following you both when you met us."
"The dickens they were! Was that the first you saw of them?"
"No; the first time was over there at the nets before play began. I
noticed those two men behind Teddy's net. They were not watching him;
that called my attention to them. It's my belief they were lying in wait
for Mr. Raffles; at any rate, when he came they moved away. But they
followed us afterwards across the ground."
"You are sure of that?"
"I looked round to see," said Miss Belsize, avoiding my eyes for the
first time.
"Did you think the men--detectives?"
And I forced a laugh.
"I was afraid they might be, Mr. Manders, though I have never seen one
off the stage."
"Still," I pursued, with painfully sustained amusement, "you were
ready to find A.J. Raffles being shadowed here at Lord's of all places
in the world?"
"I was ready for anything, anywhere," said Miss Belsize, "after all I
heard yesterday afternoon."
"You mean about poor Mr. Garland and his affairs?"
It was an ingenuously disingenuous suggestion; it brought my companion's
eyes back to mine, with something of the scorn that I deserved.
"No, Mr. Manders, I meant after what we all heard between Mr. Levy
and Mr. Raffles; and you knew very well what I meant," added Miss
Belsize severely.
"But surely you didn't take all that seriously?" said I, without denying
the just impeachment.
"How could I help it? The insinuation was serious enough, in all
conscience!" exclaimed Camilla Belsize.
"That is," said I, since she was not to be wilfully misunderstood, "that
poor old Raffles had something to do with this jewel robbery at
Carlsbad?"
"If it was a robbery."
She winced at the word.
"Do you mean it might have been a trick?" said I, recalling the victim's
own make-believe at the Albany. And not only did Camilla appear to
embrace that theory with open arms; she had the nerve to pretend that it
really was what she had meant.
"Obviously!" says she, with an impromptu superiority worthy of Raffles
himself. "I wonder you never thought of that, Mr. Manders, when you know
what a trick you both played Mr. Levy only yesterday. Mr. Raffles himself
told us all about that; and I'm very grateful to you both; you must know
I am--for Teddy's sake," added Miss Belsize, with one quick remorseful
glance towards the great arena. "Still it only shows what Mr. Raffles
is--and--and it's what I meant when we were talking about him yesterday."
"I don't remember," said I, remembering fast enough.
"In the rockery," she reminded me. "When you asked what people said about
him, and I said that about living on his wits."
"And being a paid amateur!"
"But the other was the worst."
"I'm not so sure," said I. "But his wits wouldn't carry him very far if
he only took necklaces and put them back again."
"But it was all a joke," she reminded us both with a bit of a start.
"It must have been a joke, if Mr. Raffles did it at all. And it would
be dreadful if anything happened to him because of a wretched
practical joke!"
There was no mistake about her feeling now; she really felt that it would
be "dreadful if anything happened" to the man whom yesterday she had
seemed both to dislike and to distrust. Her voice vibrated with anxiety.
A bright film covered the fine eyes, and they were finer than ever as
they continued to face me unashamed; but I was fool enough to speak my
mind, and at that they flashed themselves dry.
"I thought you didn't like him?" had been my remark, and "Who says I do?"
was hers. "But he has done a lot for Teddy," she went on, "and never more
than yesterday," with her hand for an instant on my arm, "when you helped
him! I am dreadfully sorry for Mr. Garland, sorrier than I am for poor
Teddy. But Mr. Raffles is more than sorry. I know he means to do what he
can. He seems to think there must be something wrong; he spoke of
bringing that brute to reason--if not to justice. It would be too
dreadful if such a creature could turn the tables on Mr. Raffles by
trumping up any charge against him!"
There was an absolute echo of my own tone in "trumping up any charge,"
and I thought the echo sounded even more insincere. But at least it
showed me where we were. Miss Belsize was not deceived; she only wanted
me to think she was. Miss Belsize had divined what I knew, but neither
of us would admit to the other that the charge against Raffles would be
true enough.
"But why should these men follow him?" said I, really wondering why they
should. "If there were anything definite against old Raffles, don't you
think he would be arrested?"
"Oh! I don't know," was the slightly irritable answer. "I only think he
should be warned that he is being followed."
"Whatever he has done?" I ventured.
"Yes!" said she. "Whatever he has done--after what he did for Teddy
yesterday!"
"You want me to warn him?"
"Yes--but not from me!"
"And suppose he really did take Mrs. Levy's necklace?"
"That's just what we are supposing."
"But suppose it wasn't for a joke at all?"
I spoke as one playfully plumbing the abysmally absurd; what I did desire
to sound was the loyalty of this new, unexpected, and still captious
ally. And I thought myself strangely successful at the first cast; for
Miss Belsize looked me in the face as I was looking her, and I trusted
her before she spoke.
"Well, after yesterday," she said, "I should warn him all the same!"
"You would back your Raffles right or wrong?" I murmured, perceiving that
Camilla Belsize was, after all, like all the rest of us.
"Against a vulgar extortioner, most decidedly!" she returned, without
repudiating the possessive pronoun. "It doesn't follow that I think
anything of him--apart from what you did between you for Teddy
yesterday."
We had continued our stroll some time ago, and now it was I who stood
still. I looked at my watch. It still wanted some minutes to the
luncheon interval.
"If Raffles took a cab to his rooms," I said, "he must be nearly there
and I must telephone to him."
"Is there a call-office on the ground?"
"Only in the pavilion, I believe, for the use of the members."
"Then you must go to the nearest one outside."
"And what about you?"
Miss Belsize brightened with her smile of perfect and unconscious
independence.
"Oh, I shall be all right," she said. "I know where to find Mr. Garland,
even if I don't pick up an escort on the way."
But it was she who escorted me to the tall turnstile nearest
Wellington Road.
"And you do see why I want to put Mr. Raffles on his guard?" she said
pointedly as we shook hands. "It's only because you and he have done so
much for Teddy!"
And because she did not end by reminding me of my promise, I was all the
more reluctantly determined to keep it to the letter, even though Raffles
should think as ill as ever of one who was at least beginning to think
better of him.