E. W. Hornung_A J Raffles 01 (14 page)

The solicitor rapped his desk.

"I'll tell you what I want you to do. You can but refuse. It's
illegal, but it's illegality in a good cause; that's the risk,
and my client is prepared to pay for it. He will pay for the
attempt, in case of failure; the money is as good as yours once
you consent to run the risk. My client is Sir Bernard Debenham,
of Broom Hall, Esher."

"I know his son," I remarked.

Raffles knew him too, but said nothing, and his eye drooped
disapproval in my direction. Bennett Addenbrooke turned to me.

"Then," said he, "you have the privilege of knowing one of the
most complete young black-guards about town, and the fons et
origo of the whole trouble. As you know the son, you may know
the father too, at all events by reputation; and in that case I
needn't tell you that he is a very peculiar man. He lives alone
in a storehouse of treasures which no eyes but his ever behold.
He is said to have the finest collection of pictures in the south
of England, though nobody ever sees them to judge; pictures,
fiddles and furniture are his hobby, and he is undoubtedly very
eccentric. Nor can one deny that there has been considerable
eccentricity in his treatment of his son. For years Sir Bernard
paid his debts, and the other day, without the slightest warning,
not only refused to do so any more, but absolutely stopped the
lad's allowance. Well, I'll tell you what has happened; but
first of all you must know, or you may remember, that I appeared
for young Debenham in a little scrape he got into a year or two
ago. I got him off all right, and Sir Bernard paid me handsomely
on the nail. And no more did I hear or see of either of them
until one day last week."

The lawyer drew his chair nearer ours, and leant forward with a
hand on either knee.

"On Tuesday of last week I had a telegram from Sir Bernard; I was
to go to him at once. I found him waiting for me in the drive;
without a word he led me to the picture-gallery, which was locked
and darkened, drew up a blind, and stood simply pointing to an
empty picture-frame. It was a long time before I could get a
word out of him. Then at last he told me that that frame had
contained one of the rarest and most valuable pictures in
England—in the world—an original Velasquez. I have checked
this," said the lawyer, "and it seems literally true; the picture
was a portrait of the Infanta Maria Teresa, said to be one of the
artist's greatest works, second only to another portrait of one
of the Popes in Rome—so they told me at the National Gallery,
where they had its history by heart. They say there that the
picture is practically priceless. And young Debenham has sold it
for five thousand pounds!"

"The deuce he has," said Raffles.

I inquired who had bought it.

"A Queensland legislator of the name of Craggs—the Hon. John
Montagu Craggs, M.L.C., to give him his full title. Not that we
knew anything about him on Tuesday last; we didn't even know for
certain that young Debenham had stolen the picture. But he had
gone down for money on the Monday evening, had been refused, and
it was plain enough that he had helped himself in this way; he
had threatened revenge, and this was it. Indeed, when I hunted
him up in town on the Tuesday night, he confessed as much in the
most brazen manner imaginable. But he wouldn't tell me who was
the purchaser, and finding out took the rest of the week; but I
did find out, and a nice time I've had of it ever since!
Backwards and forwards between Esher and the Metropole,
where the Queenslander is staying, sometimes twice a day;
threats, offers, prayers, entreaties, not one of them a bit of
good!"

"But," said Raffles, "surely it's a clear case? The sale was
illegal; you can pay him back his money and force him to give the
picture up."

"Exactly; but not without an action and a public scandal, and
that my client declines to face. He would rather lose even his
picture than have the whole thing get into the papers; he has
disowned his son, but he will not disgrace him; yet his picture
he must have by hook or crook, and there's the rub! I am to get
it back by fair means or foul. He gives me carte blanche in the
matter, and, I verily believe, would throw in a blank check if
asked. He offered one to the Queenslander, but Craggs simply
tore it in two; the one old boy is as much a character as the
other, and between the two of them I'm at my wits' end."

"So you put that advertisement in the paper?" said Raffles, in
the dry tones he had adopted throughout the interview.

"As a last resort. I did."

"And you wish us to STEAL this picture?"

It was magnificently said; the lawyer flushed from his hair to
his collar.

"I knew you were not the men!" he groaned. "I never thought of
men of your stamp! But it's not stealing," he exclaimed
heatedly; "it's recovering stolen property. Besides, Sir Bernard
will pay him his five thousand as soon as he has the picture;
and, you'll see, old Craggs will be just as loath to let it come
out as Sir Bernard himself. No, no—it's an enterprise, an
adventure, if you like—but not stealing."

"You yourself mentioned the law," murmured Raffles.

"And the risk," I added.

"We pay for that," he said once more.

"But not enough," said Raffles, shaking his head. "My good sir,
consider what it means to us. You spoke of those clubs; we
should not only get kicked out of them, but put in prison like
common burglars! It's true we're hard up, but it simply isn't
worth it at the price. Double your stakes, and I for one am your
man."

Addenbrooke wavered.

"Do you think you could bring it off?"

"We could try."

"But you have no—"

"Experience? Well, hardly!"

"And you would really run the risk for four thousand pounds?"

Raffles looked at me. I nodded.

"We would," said he, "and blow the odds!"

"It's more than I can ask my client to pay," said Addenbrooke,
growing firm.

"Then it's more than you can expect us to risk."

"You are in earnest?"

"God wot!"

"Say three thousand if you succeed!"

"Four is our figure, Mr. Addenbrooke."

"Then I think it should be nothing if you fail."

"Doubles or quits?" cried Raffles. "Well, that's sporting.
Done!"

Addenbrooke opened his lips, half rose, then sat back in his
chair, and looked long and shrewdly at Raffles—never once at me.

"I know your bowling," said he reflectively. "I go up to Lord's
whenever I want an hour's real rest, and I've seen you bowl again
and again—yes, and take the best wickets in England on a plumb
pitch. I don't forget the last Gentleman and Players; I was
there. You're up to every trick—every one . . . I'm inclined
to think that if anybody could bowl out this old Australian . . .
Damme, I believe you're my very man!"

The bargain was clinched at the Cafe Royal, where Bennett
Addenbrooke insisted on playing host at an extravagant luncheon.
I remember that he took his whack of champagne with the nervous
freedom of a man at high pressure, and have no doubt I kept him
in countenance by an equal indulgence; but Raffles, ever an
exemplar in such matters, was more abstemious even than his wont,
and very poor company to boot. I can see him now, his eyes in
his plate—thinking—thinking. I can see the solicitor glancing
from him to me in an apprehension of which I did my best to
disabuse him by reassuring looks. At the close Raffles
apologized for his preoccupation, called for an A.B.C.
time-table, and announced his intention of catching the 3.2 to
Esher.

"You must excuse me, Mr. Addenbrooke," said he, "but I have my
own idea, and for the moment I should much prefer to keep it to
myself. It may end in fizzle, so I would rather not speak about
it to either of you just yet. But speak to Sir Bernard I must,
so will you write me one line to him on your card? Of course, if
you wish, you must come down with me and hear what I say; but I
really don't see much point in it."

And as usual Raffles had his way, though Bennett Addenbrooke
showed some temper when he was gone, and I myself shared his
annoyance to no small extent. I could only tell him that it was
in the nature of Raffles to be self-willed and secretive, but
that no man of my acquaintance had half his audacity and
determination; that I for my part would trust him through and
through, and let him gang his own gait every time. More I dared
not say, even to remove those chill misgivings with which I knew
that the lawyer went his way.

That day I saw no more of Raffles, but a telegram reached me when
I was dressing for dinner:

"Be in your rooms to-morrow from noon and keep rest of day
clear, Raffles."

It had been sent off from Waterloo at 6.42.

So Raffles was back in town; at an earlier stage of our relations
I should have hunted him up then and there, but now I knew
better. His telegram meant that he had no desire for my society
that night or the following forenoon; that when he wanted me I
should see him soon enough.

And see him I did, towards one o'clock next day. I was watching
for him from my window in Mount Street, when he drove up
furiously in a hansom, and jumped out without a word to the man.
I met him next minute at the lift gates, and he fairly pushed me
back into my rooms.

"Five minutes, Bunny!" he cried. "Not a moment more."

And he tore off his coat before flinging himself into the nearest
chair.

"I'm fairly on the rush," he panted; "having the very devil of a
time! Not a word till I tell you all I've done. I settled my
plan of campaign yesterday at lunch. The first thing was to get
in with this man Craggs; you can't break into a place like the
Metropole, it's got to be done from the inside. Problem one, how
to get at the fellow. Only one sort of pretext would do—it must
be something to do with this blessed picture, so that I might see
where he'd got it and all that. Well, I couldn't go and ask to
see it out of curiosity, and I couldn't go as a second
representative of the other old chap, and it was thinking how I
could go that made me such a bear at lunch. But I saw my way
before we got up. If I could only lay hold of a copy of the
picture I might ask leave to go and compare it with the original.
So down I went to Esher to find out if there was a copy in
existence, and was at Broom Hall for one hour and a half
yesterday afternoon. There was no copy there, but they must
exist, for Sir Bernard himself (there's 'copy' THERE!) has
allowed a couple to be made since the picture has been in his
possession. He hunted up the painters' addresses, and the rest of
the evening I spent in hunting up the painters themselves; but
their work had been done on commission; one copy had gone out of
the country, and I'm still on the track of the other."

"Then you haven't seen Craggs yet?"

"Seen him and made friends with him, and if possible he's the
funnier old cuss of the two; but you should study 'em both. I
took the bull by the horns this morning, went in and lied like
Ananias, and it was just as well I did—the old ruffian sails for
Australia by to-morrow's boat. I told him a man wanted to sell
me a copy of the celebrated Infanta Maria Teresa of Velasquez,
that I'd been down to the supposed owner of the picture, only to
find that he had just sold it to him. You should have seen his
face when I told him that! He grinned all round his wicked old
head. 'Did OLD Debenham admit the sale?' says he; and when I
said he had he chuckled to himself for about five minutes. He
was so pleased that he did just what I hoped he would do; he
showed me the great picture—luckily it isn't by any means a
large one—also the case he's got it in. It's an iron map-case
in which he brought over the plans of his land in Brisbane; he
wants to know who would suspect it of containing an Old Master,
too? But he's had it fitted with a new Chubb's lock, and I
managed to take an interest in the key while he was gloating over
the canvas. I had the wax in the palm of my hand, and I shall
make my duplicate this afternoon."

Raffles looked at his watch and jumped up saying he had given me
a minute too much.

"By the way," he added, "you've got to dine with him at the
Metropole to-night!"

"I?"

"Yes; don't look so scared. Both of us are invited—I swore you
were dining with me. I accepted for us both; but I sha'n't be
there."

His clear eye was upon me, bright with meaning and with mischief.

I implored him to tell me what his meaning was.

"You will dine in his private sitting-room," said Raffles; "it
adjoins his bedroom. You must keep him sitting as long as
possible, Bunny, and talking all the time!"

In a flash I saw his plan.

"You're going for the picture while we're at dinner?"

"I am."

"If he hears you?"

"He sha'n't."

"But if he does!"

And I fairly trembled at the thought.

"If he does," said Raffles, "there will be a collision, that's
all. Revolver would be out of place in the Metropole, but
I shall certainly take a life-preserver."

"But it's ghastly!" I cried. "To sit and talk to an utter
stranger and to know that you're at work in the next room!"

"Two thousand apiece," said Raffles, quietly.

"Upon my soul I believe I shall give it away!"

"Not you, Bunny. I know you better than you know yourself."

He put on his coat and his hat.

"What time have I to be there?" I asked him, with a groan.

"Quarter to eight. There will be a telegram from me saying I
can't turn up. He's a terror to talk, you'll have no difficulty
in keeping the ball rolling; but head him off his picture for all
you're worth. If he offers to show it to you, say you must go.
He locked up the case elaborately this afternoon, and there's no
earthly reason why he should unlock it again in this hemisphere."