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Raffles, Further Adventures of the Amateur Cracksman

E >> E. W. Hornung >> Raffles, Further Adventures of the Amateur Cracksman





III

It was half-past ten when we left the flat, in an interval of
silence on the noisy stairs. The silence was unbroken by our
wary feet. Yet for me a surprise was in store upon the very
landing. Instead of going downstairs, Raffles led me up two
flights, and so out upon a perfectly flat roof.

"There are two entrances to these mansions," he explained
between stars and chimney-stacks: "one to our staircase, and
another round the corner. But there's only one porter, and he
lives on the basement underneath us, and affects the door
nearest home. We miss him by using the wrong stairs, and we run
less risk of old Theobald. I got the tip from the postmen, who
come up one way and down the other. Now, follow me, and look
out!"

There was indeed some necessity for caution, for each half of the
building had its L-shaped well dropping sheer to the base, the
parapets so low that one might easily have tripped over them
into eternity. However, we were soon upon the second staircase,
which opened on the roof like the first. And twenty minutes of
the next twenty-five we spent in an admirable hansom, skimming
east.

"Not much change in the old hole, Bunny. More of these
magic-lantern advertisements . . . and absolutely the worst bit
of taste in town, though it's saying something, in that
equestrian statue with the gilt stirrups and fixings; why don't
they black the buffer's boots and his horse's hoofs while they
are about it? . . . More bicyclists, of course. That was just
beginning, if you remember. It might have been useful to us. .
. . And there's the old club, getting put into a crate for the
Jubilee; by Jove, Bunny, we ought to be there. I wouldn't lean
forward in Piccadilly, old chap. If you're seen I'm thought of,
and we shall have to be jolly careful at Kellner's. . . . Ah,
there it is! Did I tell you I was a low-down stage Yankee at
Kellner's? You'd better be another, while the waiter's in the
room."

We had the little room upstairs; and on the very threshold I,
even I, who knew my Raffles of old, was taken horribly aback.
The table was laid for three. I called his attention to it in a
whisper.

"Why, yep!" came through his nose. "Say, boy, the lady, she's
not comin', but you leave that tackle where 'tis. If I'm liable
to pay, I guess I'll have all there is to it."

I have never been in America, and the American public is the
last on earth that I desire to insult; but idiom and intonation
alike would have imposed upon my inexperience. I had to look at
Raffles to make sure that it was he who spoke, and I had my own
reasons for looking hard.

"Who on earth was the lady?" I inquired aghast at the first
opportunity.

"She isn't on earth. They don't like wasting this room on two,
that's all. Bunny--my Bunny--here's to us both!"

And we clinked glasses swimming with the liquid gold of
Steinberg, 1868; but of the rare delights of that supper I can
scarcely trust myself to write. It was no mere meal, it was no
coarse orgy, but a little feast for the fastidious gods, not
unworthy of Lucullus at his worst. And I who had bolted my
skilly at Wormwood Scrubbs, and tightened my belt in a Holloway
attic, it was I who sat down to this ineffable repast! Where
the courses were few, but each a triumph of its kind, it would
be invidious to single out any one dish; but the Jambon de
Westphalie au Champagne tempts me sorely. And then the champagne
that we drank, not the quantity but the quality! Well, it was
Pol Roger, '84, and quite good enough for me; but even so it was
not more dry, nor did it sparkle more, than the merry rascal
who had dragged me thus far to the devil, but should lead me
dancing the rest of the way. I was beginning to tell him so. I
had done my honest best since my reappearance in the world; but
the world had done its worst by me. A further antithesis and my
final intention were both upon my tongue when the waiter with
the Chateau Margaux cut me short; for he was the bearer of more
than that great wine; bringing also a card upon a silver tray.

"Show him up," said Raffles, laconically.

"And who is this?" I cried when the man was gone. Raffles
reached across the table and gripped my arm in a vice. His eyes
were steel points fixed on mine.

"Bunny, stand by me," said he in the old irresistible voice, a
voice both stern and winning. "Stand by me, Bunny--if there's a
row!"

And there was time for nothing more, the door flying open, and a
dapper person entering with a bow; a frock-coat on his back,
gold pince-nez on his nose; a shiny hat in one hand, and a black
bag in the other.

"Good-evening, gentlemen," said he, at home and smiling.

"Sit down," drawled Raffles in casual response. "Say, let me
introduce you to Mr. Ezra B. Martin, of Shicawgo. Mr. Martin is
my future brother-in-law. This is Mr. Robinson, Ezra, manager to
Sparks & Company, the cellerbrated joolers on Re-gent Street."

I pricked up my ears, but contented myself with a nod. I
altogether distrusted my ability to live up to my new name and
address.

"I figured on Miss Martin bein' right here, too," continued
Raffles, "but I regret to say she's not feelin' so good. We
light out for Parrus on the 9 A. M. train to-morrer mornin', and
she guessed she'd be too dead. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr.
Robinson; but you'll see I'm advertisin' your wares."

Raffles held his right hand under the electric light, and a
diamond ring flashed upon his little finger. I could have sworn
it was not there five minutes before.

The tradesman had a disappointed face, but for a moment it
brightened as he expatiated on the value of that ring and on the
price his people had accepted for it. I was invited to guess the
figure, but I shook a discreet head. I have seldom been more
taciturn in my life.

"Forty-five pounds," cried the jeweller; "and it would be cheap
at fifty guineas."

"That's right," assented Raffles. "That'd be dead cheap, I
allow. But then, my boy, you gotten ready cash, and don't you
forget it."

I do not dwell upon my own mystification in all this. I merely
pause to state that I was keenly enjoying that very element.
Nothing could have been more typical of Raffles and the past.
It was only my own attitude that was changed.

It appeared that the mythical lady, my sister, had just become
engaged to Raffles, who seemed all anxiety to pin her down with
gifts of price. I could not quite gather whose gift to whom was
the diamond ring; but it had evidently been paid for; and I
voyaged to the moon, wondering when and how. I was recalled to
this planet by a deluge of gems from the jeweller's bag. They
lay alight in their cases like the electric lamps above. We all
three put our heads together over them, myself without the
slightest clew as to what was coming, but not unprepared for
violent crime. One does not do eighteen months for nothing.

"Right away," Raffles was saying. "We'll choose for her, and
you'll change anything she don't like. Is that the idea?"

"That was my suggestion, sir."

"Then come on, Ezra. I guess you know Sadie's taste. You help
me choose."

And we chose--lord! What did we not choose? There was her ring,
a diamond half-hoop. It cost L95, and there was no attempt to
get it for L90. Then there was a diamond necklet--two hundred
guineas, but pounds accepted. That was to be the gift of the
bridegroom. The wedding was evidently imminent. It behooved me
to play a brotherly part. I therefore rose to the occasion;
calculated she would like a diamond star (L116), but reckoned it
was more than I could afford; and sustained a vicious kick under
the table for either verb. I was afraid to open my mouth on
finally obtaining the star for the round hundred. And then the
fat fell in the fire; for pay we could not; though a remittance
(said Raffles) was "overdo from Noo York."

"But I don't know you, gentlemen," the jeweller exclaimed. "I
haven't even the name of your hotel!"

"I told you we was stoppin' with friends," said Raffles, who was
not angry, though thwarted and crushed. "But that's right, sir!
Oh, that's dead right, and I'm the last man to ask you to take
Quixotic risks. I'm tryin' to figure a way out. Yes, SIR,
that's what I'm tryin' to do."

"I wish you could, sir," the jeweller said, with feeling. "It
isn't as if we hadn't seen the color of your money. But certain
rules I'm sworn to observe; it isn't as if I was in business for
myself; and--you say you start for Paris in the morning!"

"On the 9 A. M. train," mused Raffles; "and I've heard no-end
yarns about the joolers' stores in Parrus. But that ain't fair;
don't you take no notice o' that. I'm tryin' to figure a way
out. Yes, SIR!"

He was smoking cigarettes out of a twenty-five box; the
tradesman and I had cigars. Raffles sat frowning with a
pregnant eye, and it was only too clear to me that his plans had
miscarried. I could not help thinking, however, that they
deserved to do so, if he had counted upon buying credit for all
but L400 by a single payment of some ten per cent. That again
seemed unworthy of Raffles, and I, for my part, still sat
prepared to spring any moment at our visitor's throat.

"We could mail you the money from Parrus," drawled Raffles at
length. "But how should we know you'd hold up your end of the
string, and mail us the same articles we've selected to-night?"

The visitor stiffened in his chair. The name of his firm should
be sufficient guarantee for that.

"I guess I'm no better acquainted with their name than they are
with mine," remarked Raffles, laughing. "See here, though! I
got a scheme. You pack 'em in this!"

He turned the cigarettes out of the tin box, while the jeweller
and I joined wondering eyes.

"Pack 'em in this," repeated Raffles, "the three things we want,
and never mind the boxes; you can pack 'em in cotton-wool. Then
we'll ring for string and sealing wax, seal up the lot right
here, and you can take 'em away in your grip. Within three
days we'll have our remittance, and mail you the money, and
you'll mail us this darned box with my seal unbroken! It's no
use you lookin' so sick, Mr. Jooler; you won't trust us any, and
yet we're goin' to trust you some. Ring the bell, Ezra, and
we'll see if they've gotten any sealing-wax and string."

They had; and the thing was done. The tradesman did not like
it; the precaution was absolutely unnecessary; but since he was
taking all his goods away with him, the sold with the unsold,
his sentimental objections soon fell to the ground. He packed
necklet, ring, and star, with his own hands, in cotton-wool; and
the cigarette-box held them so easily that at the last moment,
when the box was closed, and the string ready, Raffles very
nearly added a diamond bee-brooch at L51 10s. This temptation,
however, he ultimately overcame, to the other's chagrin. The
cigarette-box was tied up, and the string sealed, oddly enough,
with the diamond of the ring that had been bought and paid for.

"I'll chance you having another ring in the store the dead spit
of mine," laughed Raffles, as he relinquished the box, and it
disappeared into the tradesman's bag. "And now, Mr. Robinson, I
hope you'll appreciate my true hospitality in not offering you
any thing to drink while business was in progress. That's
Chateau Margaux, sir, and I should judge it's what you'd call an
eighteen-carat article."

In the cab which we took to the vicinity of the flat, I was
instantly snubbed for asking questions which the driver might
easily overhear, and took the repulse just a little to heart. I
could make neither head nor tail of Raffles's dealings with the
man from Regent Street, and was naturally inquisitive as to the
meaning of it all. But I held my tongue until we had regained
the flat in the cautious manner of our exit, and even there
until Raffles rallied me with a hand on either shoulder and an
old smile upon his face.

"You rabbit!" said he. "Why couldn't you wait till we got home?"

"Why couldn't you tell me what you were going to do?" I retorted
as of yore.

"Because your dear old phiz is still worth its weight in
innocence, and because you never could act for nuts! You looked
as puzzled as the other poor devil; but you wouldn't if you had
known what my game really was."

"And pray what was it?"

"That," said Raffles, and he smacked the cigarette-box down upon
the mantelpiece. It was not tied. It was not sealed. It flew
open from the force of the impact. And the diamond ring that
cost L95, the necklet for L200, and my flaming star at another
L100, all three lay safe and snug in the jeweller's own
cotton-wool!

"Duplicate boxes!" I cried.

"Duplicate boxes, my brainy Bunny. One was already packed and
weighted, and in my pocket. I don't know whether you noticed me
weighing the three things together in my hand? I know that
neither of you saw me change the boxes, for I did it when I was
nearest buying the bee-brooch at the end, and you were too
puzzled, and the other Johnny too keen. It was the cheapest
shot in the game; the dear ones were sending old Theobald to
Southampton on a fool's errand yesterday afternoon, and showing
one's own nose down Regent Street in broad daylight while he was
gone; but some things are worth paying for, and certain risks
one must always take. Nice boxes, aren't they? I only wished
they contained a better cigarette; but a notorious brand was
essential; a box of Sullivans would have brought me to life
to-morrow."

"But they oughtn't to open it to-morrow."

"Nor will they, as a matter of fact. Meanwhile, Bunny, I may
call upon you to dispose of the boodle."

"I'm on for any mortal thing!"

My voice rang true, I swear, but it was the way of Raffles to
take the evidence of as many senses as possible. I felt the
cold steel of his eyes through mine and through my brain. But
what he saw seemed to satisfy him no less than what he heard,
for his hand found my hand, and pressed it with a fervor foreign
to the man.

"I know you are, and I knew you would be. Only remember, Bunny,
it's my turn next to pay the shot!"

You shall hear how he paid it when the time came.


A JUBILEE PRESENT

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

"The older I grow, Bunny, the less I think of your so-called
precious stones. 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 with your innocent eyes shut. A thousand
pounds that stuff was worth; but how many hundreds did it
actually fetch. The Ardagh emeralds weren't much better; old
Lady Melrose's necklace was far worse; but that little lot the
other night has about finished me. A cool hundred for goods
priced well over four; and L35 to come off for bait, since we
only got a tenner for the ring I bought and paid for like an
ass. I'll be shot if I ever touch a diamond again! Not if it
was the Koh-I-noor; those few whacking stones are too well
known, and to cut them up is to decrease their value by
arithmetical retrogression. Besides, that brings you up against
the Fence once more, and I'm done with the beggars for good and
all. You talk about your editors and publishers, you literary
swine. Barabbas was neither a robber nor a publisher, but a
six-barred, barbed-wired, spike-topped Fence. What we really
want is an Incorporated Society of Thieves, with some
public-spirited old forger 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 were taking a midnight airing on the roof, after a
whole day of June in the little flat below. The stars shone
overhead, the lights of London underneath, and between the lips
of Raffles a cigarette of the old and only brand. I had sent in
secret for a box of the best; the boon had arrived that night;
and the foregoing speech was the first result. I could afford
to ignore the insolent asides, however, where the apparent
contention 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,
whose value, I admit, is largely extrinsic. But gold is gold,
from Phoenicia to Klondike, and if we cleared the room we
should eventually do 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 of
England. And you CAN make them."

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

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

"Ah, there you have it," said Raffles. "I only propose to
reconnoitre the ground, to see what we can see. We might find
some hiding-place for 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
that they exhibit now. It's a long time since I read of it--I
can't remember where--but I know they have got a gold cup of
sorts worth several thousands. A number of the immorally rich
clubbed together and presented it to the nation; and two of the
richly immoral intend to snaffle it for themselves. At any rate
we might go and have a look at it, 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-practitioner taking his work--at least not that
considerable branch of it which consisted of Raffles--during his
brief absence from town. There were reasons, delightfully
obvious to us, why such a plan would have been highly unwise in
Dr. Theobald. I, however, was sending him daily screeds, and
both matutinal and nocturnal telegrams, the composition of which
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
absolute allegiance for the second coin of the realm. My story,
however, invented by Raffles, was sufficiently specious in
itself. That sick gentleman, Mr. Maturin (as I had to remem-ber
to call him), was really, or apparently, sickening for fresh
air. Dr. Theobald would allow him none; he was pestering me for
just one day in the country while the glorious weather lasted.
I was myself convinced that no possible harm could come of the
experiment. Would the porter help me in so innocent and
meritorious an intrigue? The man hesitated. I produced my
half-sovereign. The man was lost. And at half-past eight next
morning--before the heat of the day--Raffles and I drove to Kew
Gardens in a hired landau which was to call for us at mid-day
and wait until we came. The porter had assisted me to carry my
invalid downstairs, in a carrying-chair hired (like the landau)
from Harrod's Stores for the occasion.

It was little after nine when we crawled together into the
gardens; by half-past my invalid had had enough, and out he
tottered on my arm; a cab, a message to our coachman, a timely
train to Baker Street, another cab, and we were at the British
Museum--brisk pedestrians now--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
many who were in town at the time. The Diamond Jubilee was upon
us, and Queen's weather had already set in. Raffles, indeed,
declared it was as hot as Italy and Australia put together; and
certainly the short summer nights gave the channels of wood and
asphalt and the continents of brick and mortar but little time
to cool. At the British Museum the pigeons were crooning among
the shadows of the grimy colonnade, and the stalwart janitors
looked less stalwart than usual, as though their medals were too
heavy for them. I recognized some habitual Readers going to
their labor underneath the dome; of mere visitors we seemed
among the first.

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

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

"A hundred and thirty-nine yards from this to the open street,"
said Raffles, "not counting the stairs. I suppose we COULD do
it in twenty seconds, but if we did we should have to jump the
gates. No, you must remember 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 show thoroughly."

"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 of trousers sewn together at the foot! This is only
a preliminary reconnoitre. And here we are."

It is none of my business to describe the so-called Room of
Gold, with which I, for one, was not a little disappointed. The
glass cases, which both fill and line it, may contain unique
examples of the goldsmith's art in times and places of which
one heard quite enough in the course of one's classical
education; but, from a professional point of view, I would as
lief have the ransacking of a single window in the West End as
the pick of all those spoils of Etruria and of ancient Greece.
The gold may not be so soft as it appears, but it certainly
looks as though you could bite off the business ends of the
spoons, and stop your own teeth in doing so. Nor should I care
to be seen wearing one of the rings; but the greatest fraud of
all (from the aforesaid standpoint) 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 a
middle-aged lady of quality! But, by Jove, it's one of the most
beautiful things I ever saw in my life, Bunny. I should like to
have it for its own sake, by all my gods!"

The thing had a little square case of plate-glass all to itself
at one end of the room. It may have been the thing of beauty
that Raffles affected to consider it, but I for my part was in
no mood to look at it in that light. Underneath were the names
of the plutocrats who had subscribed for this national gewgaw,
and I fell to wondering where their L8,000 came in, while
Raffles devoured his two-penny guide-book as 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 the thing 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 good scheme 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 knew
better, but, like another madman, had let him ramble on
unchecked. And here was a stolid constable confronting us, in
the short tunic that they wear in summer, his whistle on its
chain, but no truncheon at his side. Heavens! how I see him
now: a man of medium size, with a broad, good-humored,
perspiring face, and a limp moustache. He looked sternly 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 queer talk for a gentleman like you, sir, in the British
Museum!" And he wagged his helmet at my invalid, who had taken
his airing in frock-coat and top-hat, the more readily to
assume his present part.

"What!" cried Raffles, "simply saying to my friend that I'd like
to lift the gold cup? Why, so I should, officer, so I should!
I don't mind who hears me say so. It's one of the most beautiful
things I ever saw in all my life."

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