Raffles: Further Adventures of the Amateur Cracksman

by E. W. Hornung

  A JUBILEE PRESENT

  The Room of Gold, in the British Museum, is probably well enough knownto the inquiring alien and the travelled American. A true Londoner,however, I myself had never heard of it until Raffles casually proposeda raid.

  "The older I grow, Bunny, the less I think of your so-called preciousstones. When did they ever bring in half their market value in L.s.d.There was the first little crib we ever cracked together--you withyour innocent eyes shut. A thousand pounds that stuff was worth; buthow many hundreds did it actually fetch. The Ardagh emeralds weren'tmuch better; old Lady Melrose's necklace was far worse; but that littlelot the other night has about finished me. A cool hundred for goodspriced well over four; and L35 to come off for bait, since we only gota tenner for the ring I bought and paid for like an ass. I'll be shotif I ever touch a diamond again! Not if it was the Koh-I-noor; thosefew whacking stones are too well known, and to cut them up is todecrease their value by arithmetical retrogression. Besides, thatbrings you up against the Fence once more, and I'm done with thebeggars for good and all. You talk about your editors and publishers,you literary swine. Barabbas was neither a robber nor a publisher, buta six-barred, barbed-wired, spike-topped Fence. What we really want isan Incorporated Society of Thieves, with some public-spirited oldforger to run it for us on business lines."

  Raffles uttered these blasphemies under his breath, not, I am afraid,out of any respect for my one redeeming profession, but because we weretaking a midnight airing on the roof, after a whole day of June in thelittle flat below. The stars shone overhead, the lights of Londonunderneath, and between the lips of Raffles a cigarette of the old andonly brand. I had sent in secret for a box of the best; the boon hadarrived that night; and the foregoing speech was the first result. Icould afford to ignore the insolent asides, however, where the apparentcontention was so manifestly unsound.

  "And how are you going to get rid of your gold?" said I, pertinently.

  "Nothing easier, my dear rabbit."

  "Is your Room of Gold a roomful of sovereigns?"

  Raffles laughed softly at my scorn.

  "No, Bunny, it's principally in the shape of archaic ornaments, whosevalue, I admit, is largely extrinsic. But gold is gold, fromPhoenicia to Klondike, and if we cleared the room we should eventuallydo very well."

  "How?"

  "I should melt it down into a nugget, and bring it home from the U.S.A.to-morrow."

  "And then?"

  "Make them pay up in hard cash across the counter of the Bank ofEngland. And you CAN make them."

  That I knew, and so said nothing for a time, remaining a hostile thougha silent critic, while we paced the cool black leads with our barefeet, softly as cats.

  "And how do you propose to get enough away," at length I asked, "tomake it worth while?"

  "Ah, there you have it," said Raffles. "I only propose to reconnoitrethe ground, to see what we can see. We might find some hiding-placefor a night; that, I am afraid, would be our only chance."

  "Have you ever been there before?"

  "Not since they got the one good, portable piece which I believe thatthey exhibit now. It's a long time since I read of it--I can'tremember where--but I know they have got a gold cup of sorts worthseveral thousands. A number of the immorally rich clubbed togetherand presented it to the nation; and two of the richly immoral intend tosnaffle it for themselves. At any rate we might go and have a look atit, Bunny, don't you think?"

  Think! I seized his arm.

  "When? When? When?" I asked, like a quick-firing gun.

  "The sooner the better, while old Theobald's away on his honeymoon."

  Our medico had married the week before, nor was any fellow-practitionertaking his work--at least not that considerable branch of it whichconsisted of Raffles--during his brief absence from town. There werereasons, delightfully obvious to us, why such a plan would have beenhighly unwise in Dr. Theobald. I, however, was sending him dailyscreeds, and both matutinal and nocturnal telegrams, the composition ofwhich afforded Raffles not a little enjoyment.

  "Well, then, when--when?" I began to repeat.

  "To-morrow, if you like."

  "Only to look?"

  The limitation was my one regret.

  "We must do so, Bunny, before we leap."

  "Very well," I sighed. "But to-morrow it is!"

  And the morrow it really was.

  I saw the porter that night, and, I still think, bought his absoluteallegiance for the second coin of the realm. My story, however,invented by Raffles, was sufficiently specious in itself. That sickgentleman, Mr. Maturin (as I had to remember to call him), was really,or apparently, sickening for fresh air. Dr. Theobald would allow himnone; he was pestering me for just one day in the country while theglorious weather lasted. I was myself convinced that no possible harmcould come of the experiment. Would the porter help me in so innocentand meritorious an intrigue? The man hesitated. I produced myhalf-sovereign. The man was lost. And at half-past eight nextmorning--before the heat of the day--Raffles and I drove to Kew Gardensin a hired landau which was to call for us at mid-day and wait until wecame. The porter had assisted me to carry my invalid downstairs, in acarrying-chair hired (like the landau) from Harrod's Stores for theoccasion.

  It was little after nine when we crawled together into the gardens; byhalf-past my invalid had had enough, and out he tottered on my arm; acab, a message to our coachman, a timely train to Baker Street,another cab, and we were at the British Museum--brisk pedestriansnow--not very many minutes after the opening hour of 10 A.M.

  It was one of those glowing days which will not be forgotten by manywho were in town at the time. The Diamond Jubilee was upon us, andQueen's weather had already set in. Raffles, indeed, declared it wasas hot as Italy and Australia put together; and certainly the shortsummer nights gave the channels of wood and asphalt and the continentsof brick and mortar but little time to cool. At the British Museum thepigeons were crooning among the shadows of the grimy colonnade, and thestalwart janitors looked less stalwart than usual, as though theirmedals were too heavy for them. I recognized some habitual Readersgoing to their labor underneath the dome; of mere visitors we seemedamong the first.

  "That's the room," said Raffles, who had bought the two-penny guide, aswe studied it openly on the nearest bench; "number 43, upstairs andsharp round to the right. Come on, Bunny!"

  And he led the way in silence, but with a long methodical stride whichI could not understand until we came to the corridor leading to theRoom of Gold, when he turned to me for a moment.

  "A hundred and thirty-nine yards from this to the open street," saidRaffles, "not counting the stairs. I suppose we COULD do it in twentyseconds, but if we did we should have to jump the gates. No, you mustremember to loaf out at slow march, Bunny, whether you like it or not."

  "But you talked about a hiding-place for a night?"

  "Quite so--for all night. We should have to get back, go on lying low,and saunter out with the crowd next day--after doing the whole showthoroughly."

  "What! With gold in our pockets--"

  "And gold in our boots, and gold up the sleeves and legs of our suits!You leave that to me, Bunny, and wait till you've tried two pairs oftrousers sewn together at the foot! This is only a preliminaryreconnoitre. And here we are."

  It is none of my business to describe the so-called Room of Gold, withwhich I, for one, was not a little disappointed. The glass cases,which both fill and line it, may contain unique examples of thegoldsmith's art in times and places of which one heard quite enough inthe course of one's classical education; but, from a professional pointof view, I would as lief have the ransacking of a single window in theWest End as the pick of all those spoils of Etruria and of ancientGreece. The gold may not be so soft as it appears, but it certainlylooks as though you could bite off the business ends of the spoons, andstop your own teeth in doing so. Nor should I care to be seen wearingone of the rings; but the grea
test fraud of all (from the aforesaidstandpoint) is assuredly that very cup of which Raffles had spoken.Moreover, he felt this himself.

  "Why, it's as thin as paper," said he, "and enamelled like amiddle-aged lady of quality! But, by Jove, it's one of the mostbeautiful things I ever saw in my life, Bunny. I should like to haveit for its own sake, by all my gods!"

  The thing had a little square case of plate-glass all to itself at oneend of the room. It may have been the thing of beauty that Rafflesaffected to consider it, but I for my part was in no mood to look at itin that light. Underneath were the names of the plutocrats who hadsubscribed for this national gewgaw, and I fell to wondering wheretheir L8,000 came in, while Raffles devoured his two-penny guide-bookas greedily as a school-girl with a zeal for culture.

  "Those are scenes from the martyrdom of St. Agnes," said he ..."'translucent on relief ... one of the finest specimens of its kind.'I should think it was! Bunny, you Philistine, why can't you admire thething for its own sake? It would be worth having only to live up to!There never was such rich enamelling on such thin gold; and what a goodscheme to hang the lid up over it, so that you can see how thin it is.I wonder if we could lift it, Bunny, by hook or crook?"

  "You'd better try, sir," said a dry voice at his elbow.

  The madman seemed to think we had the room to ourselves. I knewbetter, but, like another madman, had let him ramble on unchecked. Andhere was a stolid constable confronting us, in the short tunic thatthey wear in summer, his whistle on its chain, but no truncheon at hisside. Heavens! how I see him now: a man of medium size, with abroad, good-humored, perspiring face, and a limp moustache. He lookedsternly at Raffles, and Raffles looked merrily at him.

  "Going to run me in, officer?" said he. "That WOULD be a joke--my hat!"

  "I didn't say as I was, sir," replied the policeman. "But that's queertalk for a gentleman like you, sir, in the British Museum!" And hewagged his helmet at my invalid, who had taken his airing infrock-coat and top-hat, the more readily to assume his present part.

  "What!" cried Raffles, "simply saying to my friend that I'd like tolift the gold cup? Why, so I should, officer, so I should! I don'tmind who hears me say so. It's one of the most beautiful things I eversaw in all my life."

  The constable's face had already relaxed, and now a grin peeped underthe limp moustache. "I daresay there's many as feels like that, sir,"said he.

  "Exactly; and I say what I feel, that's all," said Raffles airily."But seriously, officer, is a valuable thing like this quite safe in acase like that?"

  "Safe enough as long as I'm here," replied the other, between grim jestand stout earnest. Raffles studied his face; he was still watchingRaffles; and I kept an eye on them both without putting in my word.

  "You appear to be single-handed," observed Raffles. "Is that wise?"

  The note of anxiety was capitally caught; it was at once personal andpublic-spirited, that of the enthusiastic savant, afraid for a nationaltreasure which few appreciated as he did himself. And, to be sure, thethree of us now had this treasury to ourselves; one or two others hadbeen there when we entered; but now they were gone.

  "I'm not single-handed," said the officer, comfortably. "See that seatby the door? One of the attendants sits there all day long."

  "Then where is he now?"

  "Talking to another attendant just outside. If you listen you'll hearthem for yourself."

  We listened, and we did hear them, but not just outside. In my ownmind I even questioned whether they were in the corridor through whichwe had come; to me it sounded as though they were just outside thecorridor.

  "You mean the fellow with the billiard-cue who was here when we camein?" pursued Raffles.

  "That wasn't a billiard-cue! It was a pointer," the intelligentofficer explained.

  "It ought to be a javelin," said Raffles, nervously. "It ought to be apoleaxe! The public treasure ought to be better guarded than this. Ishall write to the Times about it--you see if I don't!"

  All at once, yet somehow not so suddenly as to excite suspicion,Raffles had become the elderly busybody with nerves; why, I could notfor the life of me imagine; and the policeman seemed equally at sea.

  "Lor' bless you, sir," said he, "I'm all right; don't you bother yourhead about ME."

  "But you haven't even got a truncheon!"

  "Not likely to want one either. You see, sir, it's early as yet; in afew minutes these here rooms will fill up; and there's safety innumbers, as they say."

  "Oh, it will fill up soon, will it?"

  "Any minute now, sir."

  "Ah!"

  "It isn't often empty as long as this, sir. It's the Jubilee, Isuppose."

  "Meanwhile, what if my friend and I had been professional thieves?Why, we could have over-powered you in an instant, my good fellow!"

  "That you couldn't; leastways, not without bringing the whole placeabout your ears."

  "Well, I shall write to the Times, all the same. I'm a connoisseur inall this sort of thing, and I won't have unnecessary risks run with thenation's property. You said there was an attendant just outside, buthe sounds to me as though he were at the other end of the corridor. Ishall write to-day!"

  For an instant we all three listened; and Raffles was right. Then I sawtwo things in one glance. Raffles had stepped a few inches backward,and stood poised upon the ball of each foot, his arms half raised, alight in his eyes. And another kind of light was breaking over thecrass features of our friend the constable.

  "Then shall I tell you what I'LL do?" he cried, with a sudden clutch atthe whistle-chain on his chest. The whistle flew out, but it neverreached his lips. There were a couple of sharp smacks, like doublebarrels discharged all but simultaneously, and the man reeled againstme so that I could not help catching him as he fell.

  "Well done, Bunny! I've knocked him out--I've knocked him out! Run youto the door and see if the attendants have heard anything, and takethem on if they have."

  Mechanically I did as I was told. There was no time for thought, stillless for remonstrance or reproach, though my surprise must have beeneven more complete than that of the constable before Raffles knockedthe sense out of him. Even in my utter bewilderment, however, theinstinctive caution of the real criminal did not desert me. I ran tothe door, but I sauntered through it, to plant myself before aPompeiian fresco in the corridor; and there were the two attendantsstill gossiping outside the further door; nor did they hear the dullcrash which I heard even as I watched them out of the corner of eacheye.

  It was hot weather, as I have said, but the perspiration on my bodyseemed already to have turned into a skin of ice. Then I caught thefaint reflection of my own face in the casing of the fresco, and itfrightened me into some semblance of myself as Raffles joined me withhis hands in his pockets. But my fear and indignation were redoubledat the sight of him, when a single glance convinced me that hispockets were as empty as his hands, and his mad outrage the most wantonand reckless of his whole career.

  "Ah, very interesting, very interesting, but nothing to what they havein the museum at Naples or in Pompeii itself. You must go there someday, Bunny. I've a good mind to take you myself. Meanwhile--slowmarch! The beggar hasn't moved an eyelid. We may swing for him if youshow indecent haste!"

  "We!" I whispered. "We!"

  And my knees knocked together as we came up to the chatting attendants.But Raffles must needs interrupt them to ask the way to the PrehistoricSaloon.

  "At the top of the stairs."

  "Thank you. Then we'll work round that way to the Egyptian part."

  And we left them resuming their providential chat.

  "I believe you're mad," I said bitterly as we went.

  "I believe I was," admitted Raffles; "but I'm not now, and I'll see youthrough. A hundred and thirty-nine yards, wasn't it? Then it can't bemore than a hundred and twenty now--not as much. Steady, Bunny, forGod's sake. It's SLOW march--for our lives."

  There was t
his much management. The rest was our colossal luck. Ahansom was being paid off at the foot of the steps outside, and in wejumped, Raffles shouting "Charing Cross!" for all Bloomsbury to hear.

  We had turned into Bloomsbury Street without exchanging a syllable whenhe struck the trap-door with his fist.

  "Where the devil are you driving us?"

  "Charing Cross, sir."

  "I said King's Cross! Round you spin, and drive like blazes, or wemiss our train! There's one to York at 10:35," added Raffles as thetrap-door slammed; "we'll book there, Bunny, and then we'll slopethrough the subway to the Metropolitan, and so to ground via BakerStreet and Earl's Court."

  And actually in half an hour he was seated once more in the hiredcarrying chair, while the porter and I staggered upstairs with mydecrepit charge, for whose shattered strength even one hour in KewGardens had proved too much! Then, and not until then, when we had gotrid of the porter and were alone at last, did I tell Raffles, in themost nervous English at my command, frankly and exactly what I thoughtof him and of his latest deed. Once started, moreover, I spoke as Ihave seldom spoken to living man; and Raffles, of all men, stood myabuse without a murmur; or rather he sat it out, too astounded even totake off his hat, though I thought his eyebrows would have lifted itfrom his head.

  "But it always was your infernal way," I was savagely concluding."You make one plan, and yet you tell me another--"

  "Not to-day, Bunny, I swear!"

  "You mean to tell me you really did start with the bare idea of findinga place to hide in for a night?"

  "Of course I did."

  "It was to be the mere reconnoitre you pretended?"

  "There was no pretence about it, Bunny."

  "Then why on earth go and do what you did?"

  "The reason would be obvious to anyone but you," said Raffles, stillwith no unkindly scorn. "It was the temptation of a minute--the finalimpulse of the fraction of a second, when Roberto saw that I wastempted, and let me see that he saw it. It's not a thing I care to do,and I sha'n't be happy till the papers tell me the poor devil is alive.But a knock-out shot was the only chance for us then."

  "Why? You don't get run in for being tempted, nor yet for showing thatyou are!"

  "But I should have deserved running in if I hadn't yielded to such atemptation as that, Bunny. It was a chance in a hundred thousand! Wemight go there every day of our lives, and never again be the onlyoutsiders in the room, with the billiard-marking Johnnie practicallyout of ear-shot at one and the same time. It was a gift from the gods;not to have taken it would have been flying in the face of Providence."

  "But you didn't take it," said I. "You went and left it behind."

  I wish I had had a Kodak for the little smile with which Raffles shookhis head, for it was one that he kept for those great moments of whichour vocation is not devoid. All this time he had been wearing his hat,tilted a little over eyebrows no longer raised. And now at last I knewwhere the gold cup was.

  It stood for days upon his chimney-piece, this costly trophy whoseancient history and final fate filled newspaper columns even in thesedays of Jubilee, and for which the flower of Scotland Yard was said tobe seeking high and low. Our constable, we learnt, had been stunnedonly, and, from the moment that I brought him an evening paper with thenews, Raffles's spirits rose to a height inconsistent with his equabletemperament, and as unusual in him as the sudden impulse upon which hehad acted with such effect. The cup itself appealed to me no more thanit had done before. Exquisite it might be, handsome it was, but solight in the hand that the mere gold of it would scarcely have pouredthree figures out of melting-pot. And what said Raffles but that hewould never melt it at all!

  "Taking it was an offence against the laws of the land, Bunny. That isnothing. But destroying it would be a crime against God and Art, andmay I be spitted on the vane of St. Mary Abbot's if I commit it!"

  Talk such as this was unanswerable; indeed, the whole affair had passedthe pale of useful comment; and the one course left to a practicalperson was to shrug his shoulders and enjoy the joke. This was not alittle enhanced by the newspaper reports, which described Raffles as ahandsome youth, and his unwilling accomplice as an older man ofblackguardly appearance and low type.

  "Hits us both off rather neatly, Bunny," said he. "But what none ofthem do justice to is my dear cup. Look at it; only look at it, man!Was ever anything so rich and yet so chaste? St. Agnes must have had apretty bad time, but it would be almost worth it to go down toposterity in such enamel upon such gold. And then the history of thething. Do you realize that it's five hundred years old and hasbelonged to Henry the Eighth and to Elizabeth among others? Bunny,when you have me cremated, you can put my ashes in yonder cup, and layus in the deep-delved earth together!"

  "And meanwhile?"

  "It is the joy of my heart, the light of my life, the delight of mineeye."

  "And suppose other eyes catch sight of it?"

  "They never must; they never shall."

  Raffles would have been too absurd had he not been thoroughly alive tohis own absurdity; there was nevertheless an underlying sincerity inhis appreciation of any and every form of beauty, which all hisnonsense could not conceal. And his infatuation for the cup was, as hedeclared, a very pure passion, since the circumstances debarred himfrom the chief joy of the average collector, that of showing histreasure to his friends. At last, however, and at the height of hiscraze, Raffles and reason seemed to come together again as suddenly asthey had parted company in the Room of Gold.

  "Bunny," he cried, flinging his newspaper across the room, "I've got anidea after your own heart. I know where I can place it after all!"

  "Do you mean the cup?"

  "I do."

  "Then I congratulate you."

  "Thanks."

  "Upon the recovery of your senses."

  "Thanks galore. But you've been confoundedly unsympathetic about thisthing, Bunny, and I don't think I shall tell you my scheme till I'vecarried it out."

  "Quite time enough," said I.

  "It will mean your letting me loose for an hour or two under cloud ofthis very night. To-morrow's Sunday, the Jubilee's on Tuesday, and oldTheobald's coming back for it."

  "It doesn't much matter whether he's back or not if you go late enough."

  "I mustn't be late. They don't keep open. No, it's no use your askingany questions. Go out and buy me a big box of Huntley & Palmer'sbiscuits; any sort you like, only they must be theirs, and absolutelythe biggest box they sell."

  "My dear man!"

  "No questions, Bunny; you do your part and I'll do mine."

  Subtlety and success were in his face. It was enough for me, and I haddone his extraordinary bidding within a quarter of an hour. In anotherminute Raffles had opened the box and tumbled all the biscuits into thenearest chair.

  "Now newspapers!"

  I fetched a pile. He bid the cup of gold a ridiculous farewell,wrapped it up in newspaper after newspaper, and finally packed it inthe empty biscuit-box.

  "Now some brown paper. I don't want to be taken for the grocer's youngman."

  A neat enough parcel it made, when the string had been tied and theends cut close; what was more difficult was to wrap up Raffles himselfin such a way that even the porter should not recognize him if theycame face to face at the corner. And the sun was still up. ButRaffles would go, and when he did I should not have known him myself.

  He may have been an hour away. It was barely dusk when he returned,and my first question referred to our dangerous ally, the porter.Raffles had passed him unsuspected in going, but had managed to avoidhim altogether on the return journey, which he had completed by way ofthe other entrance and the roof. I breathed again.

  "And what have you done with the cup?"

  "Placed it!"

  "How much for? How much for?"

  "Let me think. I had a couple of cabs, and the postage was a tanner,with another twopence for registration. Yes, it cost me exa
ctlyfive-and-eight."

  "IT cost YOU! But what did you GET for it, Raffles?"

  "Nothing, my boy."

  "Nothing!"

  "Not a crimson cent."

  "I am not surprised. I never thought it had a market value. I toldyou so in the beginning," I said, irritably. "But what on earth haveyou done with the thing?"

  "Sent it to the Queen."

  "You haven't!"

  Rogue is a word with various meanings, and Raffles had been one sort ofrogue ever since I had known him; but now, for once, he was theinnocent variety, a great gray-haired child, running over withmerriment and mischief.

  "Well, I've sent it to Sir Arthur Bigge, to present to her Majesty,with the loyal respects of the thief, if that will do for you," saidRaffles. "I thought they might take too much stock of me at the G.P.O.if I addressed it to the Sovereign her-self. Yes, I drove over to St.Martin's-le-Grand with it, and I registered the box into the bargain.Do a thing properly if you do it at all."

  "But why on earth," I groaned, "do such a thing at all?"

  "My dear Bunny, we have been reigned over for sixty years by infinitelythe finest monarch the world has ever seen. The world is taking thepresent opportunity of signifying the fact for all it is worth. Everynation is laying of its best at her royal feet; every class in thecommunity is doing its little level--except ours. All I have done isto remove one reproach from our fraternity."

  At this I came round, was infected with his spirit, called him thesportsman he always was and would be, and shook his daredevil hand inmine; but, at the same time, I still had my qualms.

  "Supposing they trace it to us?" said I.

  "There's not much to catch hold of in a biscuit-box by Huntley &Palmer," replied Raffles; "that was why I sent you for one. And Ididn't write a word upon a sheet of paper which could possibly betraced. I simply printed two or three on a virginal post-card--anotherhalf-penny to the bad--which might have been bought at any post-officein the kingdom. No, old chap, the G.P.O. was the one real danger;there was one detective I spotted for myself; and the sight of him hasleft me with a thirst. Whisky and Sullivans for two, Bunny, if youplease."

  Raffles was soon clinking his glass against mine.

  "The Queen," said he. "God bless her!"