E. W. Hornung_A J Raffles 01 (16 page)

"I was just on my way there," I returned, with an attempt to hide
my tremors. It was an ineffectual attempt, as I saw from his
broader smile, and by the indulgent shake of his head.

"Come up to my place instead," said he. "I've something amusing
to tell you."

I made excuses, for his tone foretold the kind of amusement, and
it was a kind against which I had successfully set my face for
months. I have stated before, however, and I can but reiterate,
that to me, at all events, there was never anybody in the world
so irresistible as Raffles when his mind was made up. That we
had both been independent of crime since our little service to
Sir Bernard Debenham—that there had been no occasion for that
masterful mind to be made up in any such direction for many a
day—was the undeniable basis of a longer spell of honesty than I
had hitherto enjoyed during the term of our mutual intimacy. Be
sure I would deny it if I could; the very thing I am to tell you
would discredit such a boast. I made my excuses, as I have said.

But his arm slid through mine, with his little laugh of
light-hearted mastery. And even while I argued we were on his
staircase in the Albany.

His fire had fallen low. He poked and replenished it after
lighting the gas. As for me, I stood by sullenly in my overcoat
until he dragged it off my back.

"What a chap you are!" said Raffles, playfully. "One would really
think I had proposed to crack another crib this blessed night!
Well, it isn't that, Bunny; so get into that chair, and take one
of these Sullivans and sit tight."

He held the match to my cigarette; he brought me a whiskey and
soda. Then he went out into the lobby, and, just as I was
beginning to feel happy, I heard a bolt shot home. It cost me an
effort to remain in that chair; next moment he was straddling
another and gloating over my discomfiture across his folded arms.

"You remember Milchester, Bunny, old boy?"

His tone was as bland as mine was grim when I answered that I
did.

"We had a little match there that wasn't down on the card.
Gentlemen and Players, if you recollect?"

"I don't forget it."

"Seeing that you never got an innings, so to speak, I thought you
might. Well, the Gentlemen scored pretty freely, but the Players
were all caught."

"Poor devils!"

"Don't be too sure. You remember the fellow we saw in the inn?
The florid, over-dressed chap who I told you was one of the
cleverest thieves in town?"

"I remember him. Crawshay his name turned out to be."

"Well, it was certainly the name he was convicted under, so
Crawshay let it be. You needn't waste any pity on HIM, old chap;
he escaped from Dartmoor yesterday afternoon."

"Well done!"

Raffles smiled, but his eyebrows had gone up, and his shoulders
followed suit.

"You are perfectly right; it was very well done indeed. I wonder
you didn't see it in the paper. In a dense fog on the moor
yesterday good old Crawshay made a bolt for it, and got away
without a scratch under heavy fire. All honor to him, I agree; a
fellow with that much grit deserves his liberty. But Crawshay
has a good deal more. They hunted him all night long; couldn't
find him for nuts; and that was all you missed in the morning
papers."

He unfolded a Pall Mall, which he had brought in with him.

"But listen to this; here's an account of the escape, with just
the addition which puts the thing on a higher level. 'The
fugitive has been traced to Totnes, where he appears to have
committed a peculiarly daring outrage in the early hours of this
morning. He is reported to have entered the lodgings of the Rev.
A. H. Ellingworth, curate of the parish, who missed his clothes
on rising at the usual hour; later in the morning those of the
convict were discovered neatly folded at the bottom of a drawer.
Meanwhile Crawshay had made good his second escape, though it is
believed that so distinctive a guise will lead to his recapture
during the day.' What do you think of that, Bunny?"

"He is certainly a sportsman," said I, reaching for the paper.

"He's more," said Raffles, "he's an artist, and I envy him. The
curate, of all men! Beautiful—beautiful! But that's not all.
I saw just now on the board at the club that there's been an
outrage on the line near Dawlish. Parson found insensible in the
six-foot way. Our friend again! The telegram doesn't say so,
but it's obvious; he's simply knocked some other fellow out,
changed clothes again, and come on gayly to town. Isn't it
great? I do believe it's the best thing of the kind that's ever
been done!"

"But why should he come to town?"

In an instant the enthusiasm faded from Raffles's face; clearly I
had reminded him of some prime anxiety, forgotten in his
impersonal joy over the exploit of a fellow-criminal. He looked
over his shoulder towards the lobby before replying.

"I believe," said he, "that the beggar's on MY tracks!"

And as he spoke he was himself again—quietly amused—cynically
unperturbed—characteristically enjoying the situation and my
surprise.

"But look here, what do you mean?" said I. "What does Crawshay
know about you?"

"Not much; but he suspects."

"Why should he?"

"Because, in his way he's very nearly as good a man as I am;
because, my dear Bunny, with eyes in his head and brains behind
them, he couldn't help suspecting. He saw me once in town with
old Baird. He must have seen me that day in the pub on the way
to Milchester, as well as afterwards on the cricket-field. As a
matter of fact, I know he did, for he wrote and told me so before
his trial."

"He wrote to you! And you never told me!"

The old shrug answered the old grievance.

"What was the good, my dear fellow? It would only have worried
you."

"Well, what did he say?"

"That he was sorry he had been run in before getting back to
town, as he had proposed doing himself the honor of paying me a
call; however, he trusted it was only a pleasure deferred, and he
begged me not to go and get lagged myself before he came out. Of
course he knew the Melrose necklace was gone, though he hadn't
got it; and he said that the man who could take that and leave
the rest was a man after his own heart. And so on, with certain
little proposals for the far future, which I fear may be the very
near future indeed! I'm only surprised he hasn't turned up yet."

He looked again towards the lobby, which he had left in darkness,
with the inner door shut as carefully as the outer one. I asked
him what he meant to do.

"Let him knock—if he gets so far. The porter is to say I'm out
of town; it will be true, too, in another hour or so."

"You're going off to-night?"

"By the 7.15 from Liverpool Street. I don't say much about my
people, Bunny, but I have the best of sisters married to a
country parson in the eastern counties. They always make me
welcome, and let me read the lessons for the sake of getting me
to church. I'm sorry you won't be there to hear me on Sunday,
Bunny. I've figured out some of my best schemes in that parish,
and I know of no better port in a storm. But I must pack. I
thought I'd just let you know where I was going, and why, in case
you cared to follow my example."

He flung the stump of his cigarette into the fire, stretched
himself as he rose, and remained so long in the inelegant
attitude that my eyes mounted from his body to his face; a second
later they had followed his eyes across the room, and I also was
on my legs. On the threshold of the folding doors that divided
bedroom and sitting-room, a well-built man stood in ill-fitting
broadcloth, and bowed to us until his bullet head presented an
unbroken disk of short red hair.

Brief as was my survey of this astounding apparition, the
interval was long enough for Raffles to recover his composure;
his hands were in his pockets, and a smile upon his face, when my
eyes flew back to him.

"Let me introduce you, Bunny," said he, "to our distinguished
colleague, Mr. Reginald Crawshay."

The bullet head bobbed up, and there was a wrinkled brow above
the coarse, shaven face, crimson also, I remember, from the grip
of a collar several sizes too small. But I noted nothing
consciously at the time. I had jumped to my own conclusion, and
I turned on Raffles with an oath.

"It's a trick!" I cried. "It's another of your cursed tricks!
You got him here, and then you got me. You want me to join you,
I suppose? I'll see you damned!"

So cold was the stare which met this outburst that I became
ashamed of my words while they were yet upon my lips.

"Really, Bunny!" said Raffles, and turned his shoulder with a
shrug.

"Lord love yer," cried Crawshay, "'
E
knew nothin'.
'E
didn't
expect me; 'E'S all right. And you're the cool canary, YOU are,"
he went on to Raffles. "I knoo you were, but, do me proud,
you're one after my own kidney!" And he thrust out a shaggy
hand.

"After that," said Raffles, taking it, "what am I to say? But
you must have heard my opinion of you. I am proud to make your
acquaintance. How the deuce did you get in?"

"Never you mind," said Crawshay, loosening his collar; "let's
talk about how I'm to get out. Lord love yer, but that's better!"

There was a livid ring round his bull-neck, that he fingered
tenderly. "Didn't know how much longer I might have to play the
gent," he explained; "didn't know who you'd bring in."

"Drink whiskey and soda?" inquired Raffles, when the convict was
in the chair from which I had leapt.

"No, I drink it neat," replied Crawshay, "but I talk business
first. You don't get over me like that, Lor' love yer!"

"Well, then, what can I do for you?"

"You know without me tellin' you."

"Give it a name."

"Clean heels, then; that's what I want to show, and I leaves the
way to you. We're brothers in arms, though I ain't armed this
time. It ain't necessary. You've too much sense. But brothers
we are, and you'll see a brother through. Let's put it at that.
You'll see me through in yer own way. I leaves it all to you."

His tone was rich with conciliation and concession; he bent over
and tore a pair of button boots from his bare feet, which he
stretched towards the fire, painfully uncurling his toes.

"I hope you take a larger size than them," said he. "I'd have
had a see if you'd given me time. I wasn't in long afore you."

"And you won't tell me how you got in?"

"Wot's the use? I can't teach YOU nothin'. Besides, I want out.
I want out of London, an' England, an' bloomin' Europe too.
That's all I want of you, mister. I don't arst how YOU go on the
job. You know w'ere I come from, 'cos I 'eard you say; you know
w'ere I want to 'ead for, 'cos I've just told yer; the details I
leaves entirely to you."

"Well," said Raffles, "we must see what can be done."

"We must," said Mr. Crawshay, and leaned back comfortably, and
began twirling his stubby thumbs.

Raffles turned to me with a twinkle in his eye; but his forehead
was scored with thought, and resolve mingled with resignation in
the lines of his mouth. And he spoke exactly as though he and I
were alone in the room.

"You seize the situation, Bunny? If our friend here is 'copped,'
to speak his language, he means to 'blow the gaff' on you and me.
He is considerate enough not to say so in so many words, but it's
plain enough, and natural enough for that matter. I would do the
same in his place. We had the bulge before; he has it now; it's
perfectly fair. We must take on this job; we aren't in a position
to refuse it; even if we were, I should take it on! Our friend
is a great sportsman; he has got clear away from Dartmoor; it
would be a thousand pities to let him go back. Nor shall he; not
if I can think of a way of getting him abroad."

"Any way you like," murmured Crawshay, with his eyes shut. "I
leaves the 'ole thing to you."

"But you'll have to wake up and tell us things."

"All right, mister; but I'm fair on the rocks for a sleep!"

And he stood up, blinking.

"Think you were traced to town?"

"Must have been."

"And here?"

"Not in this fog—not with any luck."

Raffles went into the bedroom, lit the gas there, and returned
next minute.

"So you got in by the window?"

"That's about it."

"It was devilish smart of you to know which one; it beats me how
you brought it off in daylight, fog or no fog! But let that
pass. You don't think you were seen?"

"I don't think it, sir."

"Well, let's hope you are right. I shall reconnoitre and soon
find out. And you'd better come too, Bunny, and have something
to eat and talk it over."

As Raffles looked at me, I looked at Crawshay, anticipating
trouble; and trouble brewed in his blank, fierce face, in the
glitter of his startled eyes, in the sudden closing of his fists.

"And what's to become o' me?" he cried out with an oath.

"You wait here."

"No, you don't," he roared, and at a bound had his back to the
door. "You don't get round me like that, you cuckoos!"

Raffles turned to me with a twitch of the shoulders. "That's
the worst of these professors," said he; "they never will use
their heads. They see the pegs, and they mean to hit 'em; but
that's all they do see and mean, and they think we're the same.
No wonder we licked them last time!"

"Don't talk through yer neck," snarled the convict. "Talk out
straight, curse you!"

"Right," said Raffles. "I'll talk as straight as you like. You
say you put yourself in my hands—you leave it all to me—yet you
don't trust me an inch! I know what's to happen if I fail. I
accept the risk. I take this thing on. Yet you think I'm going
straight out to give you away and make you give me away in my
turn. You're a fool, Mr. Crawshay, though you have broken
Dartmoor; you've got to listen to a better man, and obey him. I
see you through in my own way, or not at all. I come and go as I
like, and with whom I like, without your interference; you stay
here and lie just as low as you know how, be as wise as your
word, and leave the whole thing to me. If you won't—if you're
fool enough not to trust me—there's the door. Go out and say
what you like, and be damned to you!"