A Thief in the Night - E. W. Hornung (phonics reader .TXT) 📗

had better stay away,” said Raffles as we reached the other curb. “I’ve no use for you this time.”

“Yet I thought I had been so useful up to now?”

“That may be, Bunny, but I tell you frankly I don’t want you tonight.”

“Yet I know the ground and you don’t! I tell you what,” said I: “I’ll come just to show you the ropes, and I won’t take a pennyweight of the swag.”

Such was the teasing fashion in which he invariably prevailed upon me; it was delightful to note how it caused him to yield in his turn. But Raffles had the grace to give in with a laugh, whereas I too often lost my temper with my point.

“You little rabbit!” he chuckled. “You shall have your share, whether you come or not; but, seriously, don’t you think you might remember the girl?”

“What’s the use?” I groaned. “You agree there is nothing for it but to give her up. I am glad to say that for myself before I asked you, and wrote to tell her so on Sunday. Now it’s Wednesday, and she hasn’t answered by line or sign. It’s waiting for one word from her that’s driving me mad.”

“Perhaps you wrote to Palace Gardens?”

“No, I sent it to the country. There’s been time for an answer, wherever she may be.”

We had reached the Albany, and halted with one accord at the Piccadilly portico, red cigar to red cigar.

“You wouldn’t like to go and see if the answer’s in your rooms?” he asked.

“No. What’s the good? Where’s the point in giving her up if I’m going to straighten out when it’s too late? It is too late, I have given her up, and I am coming with you!”

The hand that bowled the most puzzling ball in England (once it found its length) descended on my shoulder with surprising promptitude.

“Very well, Bunny! That’s finished; but your blood be on your own pate if evil comes of it. Meanwhile we can’t do better than turn in here till you have finished your cigar as it deserves, and topped up with such a cup of tea as you must learn to like if you hope to get on in your new profession. And when the hours are small enough, Bunny, my boy, I don’t mind admitting I shall be very glad to have you with me.”

I have a vivid memory of the interim in his rooms. I think it must have been the first and last of its kind that I was called upon to sustain with so much knowledge of what lay before me. I passed the time with one restless eye upon the clock, and the other on the Tantalus which Raffles ruthlessly declined to unlock. He admitted that it was like waiting with one’s pads on; and in my slender experience of the game of which he was a world’s master, that was an ordeal not to be endured without a general quaking of the inner man. I was, on the other hand, all right when I got to the metaphorical wicket; and half the surprises that Raffles sprung on me were doubtless due to his early recognition of the fact.

On this occasion I fell swiftly and hopelessly out of love with the prospect I had so gratuitously embraced. It was not only my repugnance to enter that house in that way, which grew upon my better judgment as the artificial enthusiasm of the evening evaporated from my veins. Strong as that repugnance became, I had an even stronger feeling that we were embarking on an important enterprise far too much upon the spur of the moment. The latter qualm I had the temerity to confess to Raffles; nor have I often loved him more than when he freely admitted it to be the most natural feeling in the world. He assured me, however, that he had had my Lady Lochmaben and her jewels in his mind for several months; he had sat behind them at first nights; and long ago determined what to take or to reject; in fine, he had only been waiting for those topographical details which it had been my chance privilege to supply. I now learned that he had numerous houses in a similar state upon his list; something or other was wanting in each case in order to complete his plans. In that of the Bond Street jeweller it was a trusty accomplice; in the present instance, a more intimate knowledge of the house. And lastly, this was a Wednesday night, when the tired legislator gets early to his bed.

How I wish I could make the whole world see and hear him, and smell the smoke of his beloved Sullivan, as he took me into these, the secrets of his infamous trade! Neither look nor language would betray the infamy. As a mere talker, I shall never listen to the like of Raffles on this side of the sod; and his talk was seldom garnished by an oath, never in my remembrance by the unclean word. Then he looked like a man who had dressed to dine out, not like one who had long since dined; for his curly hair, though longer that another’s, was never untidy in its length; and these were the days when it was still as black as ink. Nor were there many lines as yet upon the smooth and mobile face; and its frame was still that dear den of disorder and good taste, with the carved bookcase, the dresser and chests of still older oak, and the Wattses and Rossettis hung anyhow on the walls.

It must have been one o’clock before we drove in a hansom as far as Kensington Church, instead of getting down at the gates of our private road to ruin. Constitutionally shy of the direct approach, Raffles was further deterred by a ball in full swing at the Empress Rooms, whence potential witnesses were pouring between dances into the cool deserted street. Instead he