Raffles: Further Adventures of the Amateur Cracksman

by E. W. Hornung

  AN OLD FLAME

  I

  The square shall be nameless, but if you drive due west from Piccadillythe cab-man will eventually find it on his left, and he ought to thankyou for two shillings. It is not a fashionable square, but there arefew with a finer garden, while the studios on the south side lenddistinction of another sort. The houses, however, are small and dingy,and about the last to attract the expert practitioner in search of acrib. Heaven knows it was with no such thought I trailed Rafflesthither, one unlucky evening at the latter end of that same season,when Dr. Theobald had at last insisted upon the bath-chair which I hadforeseen in the beginning. Trees whispered in the green gardenaforesaid, and the cool, smooth lawns looked so inviting that Iwondered whether some philanthropic resident could not be induced tolend us the key. But Raffles would not listen to the suggestion, whenI stopped to make it, and what was worse, I found him looking wistfullyat the little houses instead.

  "Such balconies, Bunny! A leg up, and there you would be!"

  I expressed a conviction that there would be nothing worth taking inthe square, but took care to have him under way again as I spoke.

  "I daresay you're right," sighed Raffles. "Rings and watches, Isuppose, but it would be hard luck to take them from people who live inhouses like these. I don't know, though. Here's one with an extrastory. Stop, Bunny; if you don't stop I'll hold on to the railings!This is a good house; look at the knocker and the electric bell.They've had that put in. There's some money here, my rabbit! I darebet there's a silver-table in the drawing-room; and the windows arewide open. Electric light, too, by Jove!"

  Since stop I must, I had done so on the other side of the road, in theshadow of the leafy palings, and as Raffles spoke the ground floorwindows opposite had flown alight, showing as pretty a littledinner-table as one could wish to see, with a man at his wine at thefar end, and the back of a lady in evening dress toward us. It waslike a lantern-picture thrown upon a screen. There were only the pairof them, but the table was brilliant with silver and gay with flowers,and the maid waited with the indefinable air of a good servant. Itcertainly seemed a good house.

  "She's going to let down the blind!" whispered Raffles, in highexcitement. "No, confound them, they've told her not to. Mark downher necklace, Bunny, and invoice his stud. What a brute he looks! ButI like the table, and that's her show. She has the taste; but he musthave money. See the festive picture over the sideboard? Looks to melike a Jacques Saillard. But that silver-table would be good enoughfor me."

  "Get on," said I. "You're in a bath-chair."

  "But the whole square's at dinner! We should have the ball at ourfeet. It wouldn't take two twos!"

  "With those blinds up, and the cook in the kitchen underneath?"

  He nodded, leaning forward in the chair, his hands upon the wraps abouthis legs.

  "You must be mad," said I, and got back to my handles with the word,but when I tugged the chair ran light.

  "Keep an eye on the rug," came in a whisper from the middle of theroad; and there stood my invalid, his pale face in a quiver of puremischief, yet set with his insane resolve. "I'm only going to seewhether that woman has a silver-table--"

  "We don't want it--"

  "It won't take a minute--"

  "It's madness, madness--"

  "Then don't you wait!"

  It was like him to leave me with that, and this time I had taken him athis last word had not my own given me an idea. Mad I had called him,and mad I could declare him upon oath if necessary. It was not asthough the thing had happened far from home. They could learn allabout us at the nearest mansions. I referred them to Dr. Theobald;this was a Mr. Maturin, one of his patients, and I was his keeper, andhe had never given me the slip before. I heard myself making theseexplanations on the doorstep, and pointing to the deserted bath-chairas the proof, while the pretty parlor maid ran for the police. Itwould be a more serious matter for me than for my charge. I shouldlose my place. No, he had never done such a thing before, and I wouldanswer for it that he never should again.

  I saw myself conducting Raffles back to his chair, with a firm hand anda stern tongue. I heard him thanking me in whispers on the way home.It would be the first tight place I had ever got him out of, and I wasquite anxious for him to get into it, so sure was I of every move. Mywhole position had altered in the few seconds that it took me to followthis illuminating train of ideas; it was now so strong that I couldwatch Raffles without much anxiety. And he was worth watching.

  He had stepped boldly but softly to the front door, and there he wasstill waiting, ready to ring if the door opened or a face appeared inthe area, and doubtless to pretend that he had rung already. But hehad not to ring at all; and suddenly I saw his foot in the letter-box,his left hand on the lintel overhead. It was thrilling, even to ahardened accomplice with an explanation up his sleeve! A tight gripwith that left hand of his, as he leant backward with all his weightupon those five fingers; a right arm stretched outward and upward toits last inch; and the base of the low, projecting balcony was safelycaught.

  I looked down and took breath. The maid was removing the crumbs in thelighted room, and the square was empty as before. What a blessing itwas the end of the season! Many of the houses remained in darkness. Ilooked up again, and Raffles was drawing his left leg over the balconyrailing. In another moment he had disappeared through one of theFrench windows which opened upon the balcony, and in yet another he hadswitched on the electric light within. This was bad enough, for now I,at least, could see everything he did; but the crowning folly was stillto come. There was no point in it; the mad thing was done for mybenefit, as I knew at once and he afterward confessed; but the lunaticreappeared on the balcony, bowing like a mountebank--in his crape mask!

  I set off with the empty chair, but I came back. I could not desertold Raffles, even when I would, but must try to explain away his maskas well, if he had not the sense to take it off in time. It would bedifficult, but burglaries are not usually committed from a bath-chair,and for the rest I put my faith in Dr. Theobald. Meanwhile Raffles hadat least withdrawn from the balcony, and now I could only see his headas he peered into a cabinet at the other side of the room. It was likethe opera of Aida, in which two scenes are enacted simultaneously, onein the dungeon below, the other in the temple above. In the samefashion my attention now became divided between the picture of Rafflesmoving stealthily about the upper room, and that of the husband andwife at table underneath. And all at once, as the man replenished hisglass with a shrug of the shoulders, the woman pushed back her chairand sailed to the door.

  Raffles was standing before the fireplace upstairs. He had taken oneof the framed photographs from the chimney-piece, and was scanning itat suicidal length through the eye-holes in the hideous mask which hestill wore. He would need it after all. The lady had left the roombelow, opening and shutting the door for herself; the man was fillinghis glass once more. I would have shrieked my warning to Raffles, sofatally engrossed overhead, but at this moment (of all others) aconstable (of all men) was marching sedately down our side of thesquare. There was nothing for it but to turn a melancholy eye upon thebath-chair, and to ask the constable the time. I was evidently to bekept there all night, I remarked, and only realized with the words thatthey disposed of my other explanations before they were uttered. Itwas a horrible moment for such a discovery. Fortunately the enemy wason the pavement, from which he could scarcely have seen more than thedrawing-room ceiling, had he looked; but he was not many houses distantwhen a door opened and a woman gasped so that I heard both across theroad. And never shall I forget the subsequent tableaux in the lightedroom behind the low balcony and the French windows.

  Raffles stood confronted by a dark and handsome woman whose profile, asI saw it first in the electric light, is cut like a cameo in my memory.It had the undeviating line of brow and nose, the short upper lip, theperfect chin, that are united in marble oftener than in the flesh; and
like marble she stood, or rather like some beautiful pale bronze; forthat was her coloring, and she lost none of it that I could see,neither trembled; but her bosom rose and fell, and that was all. Soshe stood without flinching before a masked ruffian, who, I felt, wouldbe the first to appreciate her courage; to me it was so superb that Icould think of it in this way even then, and marvel how Raffles himselfcould stand unabashed before so brave a figure. He had not to do solong. The woman scorned him, and he stood unmoved, a framedphotograph still in his hand. Then, with a quick, determined movementshe turned, not to the door or to the bell, but to the open window bywhich Raffles had entered; and this with that accursed policeman stillin view. So far no word had passed between the pair. But at this pointRaffles said something, I could not hear what, but at the sound of hisvoice the woman wheeled. And Raffles was looking humbly in her face,the crape mask snatched from his own.

  "Arthur!" she cried; and that might have been heard in the middle ofthe square garden.

  Then they stood gazing at each other, neither unmoved any more, andwhile they stood the street-door opened and banged. It was her husbandleaving the house, a fine figure of a man, but a dissipated face, and astep even now distinguished by the extreme caution which precedesunsteadiness. He broke the spell. His wife came to the balcony, thenlooked back into the room, and yet again along the road, and this timeI saw her face. It was the face of one glancing indeed from Hyperionto a satyr. And then I saw the rings flash, as her hand fell gentlyupon Raffles's arm.

  They disappeared from that window. Their heads showed for an instantin the next. Then they dipped out of sight, and an inner ceilingflashed out under a new light; they had gone into the backdrawing-room, beyond my ken. The maid came up with coffee, hermistress hastily met her at the door, and once more disappeared. Thesquare was as quiet as ever. I remained some minutes where I was. Nowand then I thought I heard their voices in the back drawing-room. Iwas seldom sure.

  My state of mind may be imagined by those readers who take an interestin my personal psychology. It does not amuse me to look back upon it.But at length I had the sense to put myself in Raffles's place. He hadbeen recognized at last, he had come to life. Only one person knew asyet, but that person was a woman, and a woman who had once been fondof him, if the human face could speak. Would she keep his secret?Would he tell her where he lived? It was terrible to think we weresuch neighbors, and with the thought that it was terrible came a littleenlightenment as to what could still be done for the best. He wouldnot tell her where he lived. I knew him too well for that. He wouldrun for it when he could, and the bath-chair and I must not be there togive him away. I dragged the infernal vehicle round the nearer corner.Then I waited--there could be no harm in that--and at last he came.

  He was walking briskly, so I was right, and he had not played theinvalid to her; yet I heard him cry out with pleasure as he turned thecorner, and he flung himself into the chair with a long-drawn sigh thatdid me good.

  "Well done, Bunny--well done! I am on my way to Earl's Court, she'scapable of following me, but she won't look for me in a bath-chair.Home, home, home, and not another word till we get there!"

  Capable of following him? She overtook us before we were past thestudios on the south side of the square, the woman herself, in a hoodedopera-cloak. But she never gave us a glance, and we saw her turnsafely in the right direction for Earl's Court, and the wrong one forour humble mansions. Raffles thanked his gods in a voice thattrembled, and five minutes later we were in the flat. Then for once itwas Raffles who filled the tumblers and found the cigarettes, and foronce (and once only in all my knowledge of him) did he drain his glassat a draught.

  "You didn't see the balcony scene?" he asked at length; and they werehis first words since the woman passed us on his track.

  "Do you mean when she came in?"

  "No, when I came down."

  "I didn't."

  "I hope nobody else saw it," said Raffles devoutly. "I don't say thatRomeo and Juliet were brother and sister to us. But you might havesaid so, Bunny!"

  He was staring at the carpet with as wry a face as lover ever wore.

  "An old flame?" said I, gently.

  "A married woman," he groaned.

  "So I gathered."

  "But she always was one, Bunny," said he, ruefully. "That's thetrouble. It makes all the difference in the world!"

  I saw the difference, but said I did not see how it could make any now.He had eluded the lady, after all; had we not seen her off upon a scentas false as scent could be? There was occasion for redoubled cautionin the future, but none for immediate anxiety. I quoted the bedsideTheobald, but Raffles did not smile. His eyes had been downcast allthis time, and now, when he raised them, I perceived that my comforthad been administered to deaf ears.

  "Do you know who she is?" said he.

  "Not from Eve."

  "Jacques Saillard," he said, as though now I must know.

  But the name left me cold and stolid. I had heard it, but that wasall. It was lamentable ignorance, I am aware, but I had specialized inLetters at the expense of Art.

  "You must know her pictures," said Raffles, patiently; "but I supposeyou thought she was a man. They would appeal to you, Bunny; thatfestive piece over the sideboard was her work. Sometimes they risk herat the Academy, sometimes they fight shy. She has one of those studiosin the same square; they used to live up near Lord's."

  My mind was busy brightening a dim memory of nymphs reflected in woodypools. "Of course!" I exclaimed, and added something about "a cleverwoman." Raffles rose at the phrase.

  "A clever woman!" he echoed, scornfully; "if she were only that Ishould feel safe as houses. Clever women can't forget theircleverness, they carry it as badly as a boy does his wine, and areabout as dangerous. I don't call Jacques Saillard clever outside herart, but neither do I call her a woman at all. She does man's workover a man's name, has the will of any ten men I ever knew, and I don'tmind telling you that I fear her more than any person on God's earth.I broke with her once," said Raffles, grimly, "but I know her. If Ihad been asked to name the one person in London by whom I was keenestNOT to be bowled out, I should have named Jacques Saillard."

  That he had never before named her to me was as characteristic as thereticence with which Raffles spoke of their past relations, and evenof their conversation in the back drawing-room that evening.

  It was a question of principle with him, and one that I like toremember. "Never give a woman away, Bunny," he used to say; and hesaid it again to-night, but with a heavy cloud upon him, as though hischivalry was sorely tried.

  "That's all right," said I, "if you're not going to be given awayyourself."

  "That's just it, Bunny! That's just--"

  The words were out of him, it was too late to recall them. I had hitthe nail upon the head.

  "So she threatened you," I said, "did she?"

  "I didn't say so," he replied, coldly.

  "And she is mated with a clown!" I pursued.

  "How she ever married him," he admitted, "is a mystery to me."

  "It always is," said I, the wise man for once, and rather enjoying therole.

  "Southern blood?"

  "Spanish."

  "She'll be pestering you to run off with her, old chap," said I.

  Raffles was pacing the room. He stopped in his stride for half asecond. So she had begun pestering him already! It is wonderful howacute any fool can be in the affairs of his friend.

  But Raffles resumed his walk without a syllable, and I retreated tosafer ground.

  "So you sent her to Earl's Court," I mused aloud; and at last he smiled.

  "You'll be interested to hear, Bunny," said he, "that I am now livingin Seven Dials, and Bill Sikes couldn't hold a farthing dip to me.Bless you, she had my old police record at her fingers' ends, but itwas fit to frame compared with the one I gave her. I had sunk as lowas they dig. I divided my nights between the open parks and a thieves'kit
chen in Seven Dials. If I was decently dressed it was because I hadstolen the suit down the Thames Valley beat the night before last. Iwas on my way back when first that sleepy square, and then her openwindow, proved too much for me. You should have heard me beg her tolet me push on to the devil in my own way; there I spread myself, forI meant every word; but I swore the final stage would be a six-footdrop."

  "You did lay it on," said I.

  "It was necessary, and that had its effect. She let me go. But at thelast moment she said she didn't believe I was so black as I paintedmyself, and then there was the balcony scene you missed."

  So that was all. I could not help telling him that he had got out ofit better than he deserved for ever getting in. Next moment Iregretted the remark.

  "If I have got out of it," said Raffles, doubtfully. "We aredreadfully near neighbors, and I can't move in a minute, with oldTheobald taking a grave view of my case. I suppose I had better lielow, and thank the gods again for putting her off the scent for thetime being."

  No doubt our conversation was carried beyond this point, but itcertainly was not many minutes later, nor had we left the subject, whenthe electric bell thrilled us both to a sudden silence.

  "The doctor?" I queried, hope fighting with my horror.

  "It was a single ring."

  "The last post?"

  "You know he knocks, and it's long past his time."

  The electric bell rang again, but now as though it never would stop.

  "You go, Bunny," said Raffles, with decision. His eyes were sparkling.His smile was firm.

  "What am I to say?"

  "If it's the lady let her in."

  It was the lady, still in her evening cloak, with her fine dark headhalf-hidden by the hood, and an engaging contempt of appearances uponher angry face. She was even handsomer than I had thought, and herbeauty of a bolder type, but she was also angrier than I hadanticipated when I came so readily to the door. The passage into whichit opened was an exceedingly narrow one, as I have often said, but Inever dreamt of barring this woman's way, though not a word did shestoop to say to me. I was only too glad to flatten myself against thewall, as the rustling fury strode past me into the lighted room withthe open door.

  "So this is your thieves' kitchen!" she cried, in high-pitched scorn.

  I was on the threshold myself, and Raffles glanced towards me withraised eyebrows.

  "I have certainly had better quarters in my day," said he, "but youneed not call them absurd names before my man."

  "Then send your 'man' about his business," said Jacques Saillard, withan unpleasant stress upon the word indicated.

  But when the door was shut I heard Raffles assuring her that I knewnothing, that he was a real invalid overcome by a sudden madtemptation, and all he had told her of his life a lie to hide hiswhereabouts, but all he was telling her now she could prove for herselfwithout leaving that building. It seemed, however, that she had provedit already by going first to the porter below stairs. Yet I do notthink she cared one atom which story was the truth.

  "So you thought I could pass you in your chair," she said, "or ever inthis world again, without hearing from my heart that it was you!"

  II

  "Bunny," said Raffles, "I'm awfully sorry, old chap, but you've got togo."

  It was some weeks since the first untimely visitation of JacquesSaillard, but there had been many others at all hours of the day, whileRaffles had been induced to pay at least one to her studio in theneighboring square. These intrusions he had endured at first with anair of humorous resignation which imposed upon me less than heimagined. The woman meant well, he said, after all, and could betrusted to keep his secret loyally. It was plain to me, however, thatRaffles did not trust her, and that his pretence upon the point was adeliberate pose to conceal the extent to which she had him in herpower. Otherwise there would have been little point in hiding anythingfrom the one person in possession of the cardinal secret of hisidentity.

  But Raffles thought it worth his while to hoodwink Jacques Saillard inthe subsidiary matter of his health, in which Dr. Theobald lent himunwitting assistance, and, as we have seen, to impress upon her that Iwas actually his attendant, and as ignorant of his past as the doctorhimself. "So you're all right, Bunny," he had assured me; "she thinksyou knew nothing the other night. I told you she wasn't a clever womanoutside her work. But hasn't she a will!" I told Raffles it was veryconsiderate of him to keep me out of it, but that it seemed to me liketying up the bag when the cat had escaped. His reply was an admissionthat one must be on the defensive with such a woman and in such a case.Soon after this, Raffles, looking far from well, fell back upon hisown last line of defence, namely, his bed; and now, as always in theend, I could see some sense in his subtleties, since it wascomparatively easy for me to turn even Jacques Saillard from the door,with Dr. Theobald's explicit injunctions, and with my own honestyunquestioned. So for a day we had peace once more. Then came letters,then the doctor again and again, and finally my dismissal in theincredible words which have necessitated these explanations.

  "Go?" I echoed. "Go where?"

  "It's that ass Theobald," said Raffles. "He insists."

  "On my going altogether?"

  He nodded.

  "And you mean to let him have his way?"

  I had no language for my mortification and disgust, though neither wasas yet quite so great as my surprise. I had foreseen almost everyconceivable consequence of the mad act which brought all this troubleto pass, but a voluntary division between Raffles and me had certainlynever entered my calculations. Nor could I think that it had occurredto him before our egregious doctor's last visit, this very morning.Raffles had looked irritated as he broke the news to me from hispillow, and now there was some sympathy in the way he sat up in bed, asthough he felt the thing himself.

  "I am obliged to give in to the fellow," said he. "He's saving me frommy friend, and I'm bound to humor him. But I can tell you that we'vebeen arguing about you for the last half hour, Bunny. It was no use;the idiot has had his knife in you from the first; and he wouldn't seeme through on any other conditions."

  "So he is going to see you through, is he?"

  "It tots up to that," said Raffles, looking at me rather hard. "At allevents he has come to my rescue for the time being, and it's for me tomanage the rest. You don't know what it has been, Bunny, these lastfew weeks; and gallantry forbids that I should tell you even now. Butwould you rather elope against your will, or have your continuedexistence made known to the world in general and the police inparticular? That is practically the problem which I have had to solve,and the temporary solution was to fall ill. As a matter of fact, I amill; and now what do you think? I owe it to you to tell you, Bunny,though it goes against the grain. She would take me 'to the dear, warmunderworld, where the sun really shines,' and she would 'nurse me backto life and love!' The artistic temperament is a fearsome thing,Bunny, in a woman with the devil's own will!"

  Raffles tore up the letter from which he had read these piquantextracts, and lay back on the pillows with the tired air of theveritable invalid which he seemed able to assume at will. But for oncehe did look as though bed was the best place for him; and I used thefact as an argument for my own retention in defiance of Dr. Theobald.The town was full of typhoid, I said, and certainly that autumnalscourge was in the air. Did he want me to leave him at the very momentwhen he might be sickening for a serious illness?

  "You know I don't, my good fellow," said Raffles, wearily; "butTheobald does, and I can't afford to go against him now. Not that Ireally care what happens to me now that that woman knows I'm in theland of the living; she'll let it out, to a dead certainty, and at thebest there'll be a hue and cry, which is the very thing I have escapedall these years. Now, what I want you to do is to go and take somequiet place somewhere, and then let me know, so that I may have a portin the storm when it breaks."

  "Now you're talking!" I cried, recovering my spirits
. "I thought youmeant to go and drop a fellow altogether!"

  "Exactly the sort of thing you would think," rejoined Raffles, with acontempt that was welcome enough after my late alarm. "No, my dearrabbit, what you've got to do is to make a new burrow for us both. Trydown the Thames, in some quiet nook that a literary man would naturallyselect. I've often thought that more use might be made of a boat,while the family are at dinner, than there ever has been yet. IfRaffles is to come to life, old chap, he shall go a-Raffling for allhe's worth! There's something to be done with a bicycle, too. Try HamCommon or Roehampton, or some such sleepy hollow a trifle off the line;and say you're expecting your brother from the colonies."

  Into this arrangement I entered without the slightest hesitation, forwe had funds enough to carry it out on a comfortable scale, and Rafflesplaced a sufficient share at my disposal for the nonce. Moreover, Ifor one was only too glad to seek fresh fields and pastures new--aphrase which I determined to interpret literally in my choice of freshsurroundings. I was tired of our submerged life in the poky littleflat, especially now that we had money enough for better things. Imyself of late had dark dealings with the receivers, with the resultthat poor Lord Ernest Belville's successes were now indeed ours.Subsequent complications had been the more galling on that account,while the wanton way in which they had been created was the mostirritating reflection of all. But it had brought its own punishmentupon Raffles, and I fancied the lesson would prove salutary when weagain settled down.

  "If ever we do, Bunny!" said he, as I took his hand and told him how Iwas already looking forward to the time.

  "But of course we will!" I cried, concealing the resentment at leavinghim which his tone and his appearance renewed in my breast.

  "I'm not so sure of it," he said, gloomily. "I'm in somebody'sclutches, and I've got to get out of them first."

  "I'll sit tight until you do."

  "Well," he said, "if you don't see me in ten days you never will."

  "Only ten days?" I echoed. "That's nothing at all."

  "A lot may happen in ten days," replied Raffles, in the same depressingtone, so very depressing in him; and with that he held out his hand asecond time, and dropped mine suddenly after as sudden a pressure forfarewell.

  I left the flat in considerable dejection after all, unable to decidewhether Raffles was really ill, or only worried as I knew him to be.And at the foot of the stairs the author of my dismissal, thatconfounded Theobald, flung open his door and waylaid me.

  "Are you going?" he demanded.

  The traps in my hands proclaimed that I was, but I dropped them at hisfeet to have it out with him then and there.

  "Yes," I answered fiercely, "thanks to you!"

  "Well, my good fellow," he said, his full-blooded face lightening andsoftening at the same time, as though a load were off his mind, "it'sno pleasure to me to deprive any man of his billet, but you never werea nurse, and you know that as well as I do."

  I began to wonder what he meant, and how much he did know, and myspeculations kept me silent. "But come in here a moment," hecontinued, just as I decided that he knew nothing at all. And, leadingme into his minute consulting-room, Dr. Theobald solemnly presented mewith a sovereign by way of compensation, which I pocketed as solemnly,and with as much gratitude as if I had not fifty of them distributedover my person as it was. The good fellow had quite forgotten mysocial status, about which he himself had been so particular at ourearliest interview; but he had never accustomed himself to treat me asa gentleman, and I do not suppose he had been improving his memory bythe tall tumbler which I saw him poke behind a photograph as we entered.

  "There's one thing I should like to know before I go," said I, turningsuddenly on the doctor's mat, "and that is whether Mr. Maturin isreally ill or not!"

  I meant, of course, at the present moment, but Dr. Theobald bracedhimself like a recruit at the drill-sergeant's voice.

  "Of course he is," he snapped--"so ill as to need a nurse who cannurse, by way of a change."

  With that his door shut in my face, and I had to go my way, in the darkas to whether he had mistaken my meaning, and was telling me a lie, ornot.

  But for my misgivings upon this point I might have extracted some verygenuine enjoyment out of the next few days. I had decent clothes to myback, with money, as I say, in most of the pockets, and more freedom tospend it than was possible in the constant society of a man whosepersonal liberty depended on a universal supposition that he was dead.Raffles was as bold as ever, and I as fond of him, but whereas he wouldrun any risk in a professional exploit, there were many innocentrecreations still open to me which would have been sheer madness inhim. He could not even watch a match, from the sixpenny seats, atLord's cricket-ground, where the Gentlemen were every year in a worseway without him. He never travelled by rail, and dining out was a riskonly to be run with some ulterior object in view. In fact, much as ithad changed, Raffles could no longer show his face with perfectimpunity in any quarter or at any hour. Moreover, after the lesson hehad now learnt, I foresaw increased caution on his part in thisrespect. But I myself was under no such perpetual disadvantage, and,while what was good enough for Raffles was quite good enough for me solong as we were together, I saw no harm in profiting by the presentopportunity of "doing my-self well."

  Such were my reflections on the way to Richmond in a hansom cab.Richmond had struck us both as the best centre of operations in searchof the suburban retreat which Raffles wanted, and by road, in awell-appointed, well-selected hansom, was certainly the most agreeableway of getting there. In a week or ten days Raffles was to write to meat the Richmond post-office, but for at least a week I should be "on myown." It was not an unpleasant sensation as I leant back in thecomfortable hansom, and rather to one side, in order to have a goodlook at myself in the bevelled mirror that is almost as great animprovement in these vehicles as the rubber tires. Really I was not anill-looking youth, if one may call one's self such at the age ofthirty. I could lay no claim either to the striking cast ofcountenance or to the peculiar charm of expression which made the faceof Raffles like no other in the world. But this very distinction wasin itself a danger, for its impression was indelible, whereas I mightstill have been mistaken for a hundred other young fellows at large inLondon. Incredible as it may appear to the moralists, I had sustainedno external hallmark by my term of imprisonment, and I am vain enoughto believe that the evil which I did had not a separate existence in myface. This afternoon, indeed, I was struck by the purity of my freshcomplexion, and rather depressed by the general innocence of thevisage which peered into mine from the little mirror. Mystraw-colored moustache, grown in the flat after a protracted holiday,again preserved the most disappointing dimensions, and was stillinvisible in certain lights without wax. So far from discerning thedesperate criminal who has "done time" once, and deserved it over andover again, the superior but superficial observer might have imaginedthat he detected a certain element of folly in my face.

  At all events it was not the face to shut the doors of a first-classhotel against me, without accidental evidence of a more explicit kind,and it was with no little satisfaction that I directed the man to driveto the Star and Garter. I also told him to go through Richmond Park,though he warned me that it would add considerably to the distance andhis fare. It was autumn, and it struck me that the tints would befine. And I had learnt from Raffles to appreciate such things, evenamid the excitement of an audacious enterprise.

  If I dwell upon my appreciation of this occasion it is because, likemost pleasures, it was exceedingly short-lived. I was very comfortableat the Star and Garter, which was so empty that I had a room worthy ofa prince, where I could enjoy the finest of all views (in patrioticopinion) every morning while I shaved. I walked many miles through thenoble park, over the commons of Ham and Wimbledon, and one day as faras that of Esher, where I was forcibly reminded of a service we oncerendered to a distinguished resident in this delightful locality. Butit was on
Ham Common, one of the places which Raffles had mentioned asspecially desirable, that I actually found an almost ideal retreat.This was a cottage where I heard, on inquiry, that rooms were to be letin the summer. The landlady, a motherly body, of visible excellence,was surprised indeed at receiving an application for the winter months;but I have generally found that the title of "author," claimed withan air, explains every little innocent irregularity of conduct orappearance, and even requires something of the kind to carry convictionto the lay intelligence. The present case was one in point, and when Isaid that I could only write in a room facing north, on mutton chopsand milk, with a cold ham in the wardrobe in case of nocturnalinspiration, to which I was liable, my literary character wasestablished beyond dispute. I secured the rooms, paid a month's rentin advance at my own request, and moped in them dreadfully until theweek was up and Raffles due any day. I explained that the inspirationwould not come, and asked abruptly if the mutton was New Zealand.

  Thrice had I made fruitless inquiries at the Richmond post-office; buton the tenth day I was in and out almost every hour. Not a word wasthere for me up to the last post at night. Home I trudged to Ham withhorrible forebodings, and back again to Richmond after breakfast nextmorning. Still there was nothing. I could bear it no more. At tenminutes to eleven I was climbing the station stairs at Earl's Court.

  It was a wretched morning there, a weeping mist shrouding the long,straight street, and clinging to one's face in clammy caresses. I felthow much better it was down at Ham, as I turned into our side street,and saw the flats looming like mountains, the chimney-pots hidden inthe mist. At our entrance stood a nebulous conveyance, that I took atfirst for a tradesman's van; to my horror it proved to be a hearse; andall at once the white breath ceased upon my lips.

  I had looked up at our windows and the blinds were down!

  I rushed within. The doctor's door stood open. I neither knocked norrang, but found him in his consulting-room with red eyes and a blotchyface. Otherwise he was in solemn black from head to heel.

  "Who is dead?" I burst out. "Who is dead?"

  The red eyes looked redder than ever as Dr. Theobald opened them at theunwarrantable sight of me; and he was terribly slow in answering. Butin the end he did answer, and did not kick me out as he evidently had amind.

  "Mr. Maturin," he said, and sighed like a beaten man.

  I said nothing. It was no surprise to me. I had known it all theseminutes. Nay, I had dreaded this from the first, had divined it at thelast, though to the last also I had refused to entertain my ownconviction. Raffles dead! A real invalid after all! Raffles dead,and on the point of burial!

  "What did he die of?" I asked, unconsciously drawing on that fund ofgrim self-control which the weakest of us seem to hold in reserve forreal calamity.

  "Typhoid," he answered. "Kensington is full of it."

  "He was sickening for it when I left, and you knew it, and could getrid of me then!"

  "My good fellow, I was obliged to have a more experienced nurse forthat very reason."

  The doctor's tone was so conciliatory that I remembered in an instantwhat a humbug the man was, and became suddenly possessed with the vagueconviction that he was imposing upon me now.

  "Are you sure it was typhoid at all?" I cried fiercely to his face."Are you sure it wasn't suicide--or murder?"

  I confess that I can see little point in this speech as I write itdown, but it was what I said in a burst of grief and of wild suspicion;nor was it without effect upon Dr. Theobald, who turned bright scarletfrom his well-brushed hair to his immaculate collar.

  "Do you want me to throw you out into the street?" he cried; and all atonce I remembered that I had come to Raffles as a perfect stranger, andfor his sake might as well preserve that character to the last.

  "I beg your pardon," I said, brokenly. "He was so good to me--Ibecame so attached to him. You forget I am originally of his class."

  "I did forget it," replied Theobald, looking relieved at my new tone,"and I beg YOUR pardon for doing so. Hush! They are bringing himdown. I must have a drink before we start, and you'd better join me."

  There was no pretence about his drink this time, and a pretty stiff oneit was, but I fancy my own must have run it hard. In my case it cast amerciful haze over much of the next hour, which I can truthfullydescribe as one of the most painful of my whole existence. I can haveknown very little of what I was doing. I only remember finding myselfin a hansom, suddenly wondering why it was going so slowly, and oncemore awaking to the truth. But it was to the truth itself more than tothe liquor that I must have owed my dazed condition. My nextrecollection is of looking down into the open grave, in a suddenpassionate anxiety to see the name for myself. It was not the name ofmy friend, of course, but it was the one under which he had passed formany months.

  I was still stupefied by a sense of inconceivable loss, and had notraised my eyes from that which was slowly forcing me to realize whathad happened, when there was a rustle at my elbow, and a shower ofhothouse flowers passed before them, falling like huge snowflakeswhere my gaze had rested. I looked up, and at my side stood amajestic figure in deep mourning. The face was carefully veiled, butI was too close not to recognize the masterful beauty whom the worldknew as Jacques Saillard. I had no sympathy with her; on thecontrary, my blood boiled with the vague conviction that in some wayshe was responsible for this death. Yet she was the only womanpresent--there were not a half a dozen of us altogether--and herflowers were the only flowers.

  The melancholy ceremony was over, and Jacques Saillard had departed ina funeral brougham, evidently hired for the occasion. I had watchedher drive away, and the sight of my own cabman, making signs to methrough the fog, had suddenly reminded me that I had bidden him towait. I was the last to leave, and had turned my back upon thegrave-diggers, already at their final task, when a hand fell lightlybut firmly upon my shoulder.

  "I don't want to make a scene in a cemetery," said a voice, in a notunkindly, almost confidential whisper. "Will you get into your own caband come quietly?"

  "Who on earth are you?" I exclaimed.

  I now remembered having seen the fellow hovering about during thefuneral, and subconsciously taking him for the undertaker's head man.He had certainly that appearance, and even now I could scarcely believethat he was anything else.

  "My name won't help you," he said, pityingly. "But you will guesswhere I come from when I tell you I have a warrant for your arrest."

  My sensations at this announcement may not be believed, but I solemnlydeclare that I have seldom experienced so fierce a satisfaction. Herewas a new excitement in which to drown my grief; here was something tothink about; and I should be spared the intolerable experience of asolitary return to the little place at Ham. It was as though I hadlost a limb and some one had struck me so hard in the face that thegreater agony was forgotten. I got into the hansom without a word, mycaptor following at my heels, and giving his own directions to thecabman before taking his seat. The word "station" was the only one Icaught, and I wondered whether it was to be Bow Street again. Mycompanion's next words, however, or rather the tone in which he utteredthem, destroyed my capacity for idle speculation.

  "Mr. Maturin!" said he. "Mr. Maturin indeed!"

  "Well," said I, "what about him?"

  "Do you think we don't know who he was?"

  "Who was he?" I asked, defiantly.

  "You ought to know," said he. "You got locked up through him the othertime, too. His favorite name was Raffles then."

  "It was his real name," I said, indignantly. "And he has been dead foryears."

  My captor simply chuckled.

  "He's at the bottom of the sea, I tell you!"

  But I do not know why I should have told him with such spirit, for whatcould it matter to Raffles now? I did not think; instinct was stillstronger than reason, and, fresh from his funeral, I had taken up thecudgels for my dead friend as though he were still alive. Next
momentI saw this for myself, and my tears came nearer the surface than theyhad been yet; but the fellow at my side laughed outright.

  "Shall I tell you something else?" said he.

  "As you like."

  "He's not even at the bottom of that grave! He's no more dead than youor I, and a sham burial is his latest piece of villainy!"

  I doubt whether I could have spoken if I had tried. I did not try. Ihad no use for speech. I did not even ask him if he was sure, I wasso sure myself. It was all as plain to me as riddles usually are whenone has the answer. The doctor's alarms, his unscrupulous venality,the simulated illness, my own dismissal, each fitted in its obviousplace, and not even the last had power as yet to mar my joy in the onecentral fact to which all the rest were as tapers to the sun.

  "He is alive!" I cried. "Nothing else matters--he is alive!"

  At last I did ask whether they had got him too; but thankful as I wasfor the greater knowledge, I confess that I did not much care whatanswer I received. Already I was figuring out how much we might eachget, and how old we should be when we came out. But my companiontilted his hat to the back of his head, at the same time putting hisface close to mine, and compelling my scrutiny. And my answer, as youhave already guessed, was the face of Raffles himself, superblydisguised (but less superbly than his voice), and yet so thinly that Ishould have known him in a trice had I not been too miserable in thebeginning to give him a second glance.

  Jacques Saillard had made his life impossible, and this was the oneescape. Raffles had bought the doctor for a thousand pounds, and thedoctor had bought a "nurse" of his own kidney, on his own account; me,for some reason, he would not trust; he had insisted upon my dismissalas an essential preliminary to his part in the conspiracy. Here thedetails were half-humorous, half-grewsome, each in turn as Raffles toldme the story. At one period he had been very daringly drugged indeed,and, in his own words, "as dead as a man need be"; but he had leftstrict instructions that nobody but the nurse and "my devotedphysician" should "lay a finger on me" afterwards; and by virtue ofthis proviso a library of books (largely acquired for the occasion) hadbeen impiously interred at Kensal Green. Raffles had definitelyundertaken not to trust me with the secret, and, but for my untowardappearance at the funeral (which he had attended for his own finalsatisfaction), I was assured and am convinced that he would have kepthis promise to the letter. In explaining this he gave me the oneexplanation I desired, and in another moment we turned into PraedStreet, Paddington.

  "And I thought you said Bow Street!" said I. "Are you coming straightdown to Richmond with me?"

  "I may as well," said Raffles, "though I did mean to get my kit first,so as to start in fair and square as the long-lost brother from thebush. That's why I hadn't written. The function was a day later thanI calculated. I was going to write to-night."

  "But what are we to do?" said I, hesitating when he had paid the cab."I have been playing the colonies for all they are worth!"

  "Oh, I've lost my luggage," said he, "or a wave came into my cabin andspoilt every stitch, or I had nothing fit to bring ashore. We'llsettle that in the train."