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

I walked, but soon brought myself to repeat the experiment when an exact repetition of the result went to convince me that it had been my own echo all the time. And since I lost it on getting quit of the avenue, and coming out upon the straight and open road, I was not long in recovering from my scare. But now I could see my way, and found the rest of it without mishap, though not without another semblance of adventure. Over the bridge across the Mole, when about to turn to the left, I marched straight upon a policeman in rubber soles. I had to call him “officer” as I passed, and to pass my turning by a couple of hundred yards, before venturing back another way.

At last I had crept through a garden gate, and round by black windows to a black lawn drenched with dew. It had been a heating walk, and I was glad to blunder on a garden seat, most considerately placed under a cedar which added its own darkness to that of the night. Here I rested a few minutes, putting up my feet to keep them dry, untying my shoes to save time, and generally facing the task before me with a coolness which I strove to make worthy of my absent chief. But mine was a self-conscious quality, as far removed from the original as any other deliberate imitation of genius. I actually struck a match on my trousers, and lit one of the shorter Sullivans. Raffles himself would not have done such a thing at such a moment. But I wished to tell him that I had done it; and in truth I was not more than pleasurably afraid; I had rather that impersonal curiosity as to the issue which has been the saving of me in still more precarious situations. I even grew impatient for the fray, and could not after all sit still as long as I had intended. So it happened that I was finishing my cigarette on the edge of the wet lawn, and about to slip off my shoes before stepping across the gravel to the conservatory door, when a most singular sound arrested me in the act. It was a muffled gasping somewhere overhead. I stood like stone; and my listening attitude must have been visible against the milky sheen of the lawn, for a labored voice hailed me sternly from a window.

“Who on earth are you?” it wheezed.

“A detective officer,” I replied, “sent down by the Burglary Insurance Company.”

Not a moment had I paused for my precious fable. It had all been prepared for me by Raffles, in case of need. I was merely repeating a lesson in which I had been closely schooled. But at the window there was pause enough, filled only by the uncanny wheezing of the man I could not see.

“I don’t see why they should have sent you down,” he said at length. “We are being quite well looked after by the local police; they’re giving us a special call every hour.”

“I know that, Mr. Medlicott,” I rejoined on my own account. “I met one of them at the corner just now, and we passed the time of night.”

My heart was knocking me to bits. I had started for myself at last.

“Did you get my name from him?” pursued my questioner, in a suspicious wheeze.

“No; they gave me that before I started,” I replied. “But I’m sorry you saw me, sir; it’s a mere matter of routine, and not intended to annoy anybody. I propose to keep a watch on the place all night, but I own it wasn’t necessary to trespass as I’ve done. I’ll take myself off the actual premises, if you prefer it.”

This again was all my own; and it met with a success that might have given me confidence.

“Not a bit of it,” replied young Medlicott, with a grim geniality. “I’ve just woke up with the devil of an attack of asthma, and may have to sit up in my chair till morning. You’d better come up and see me through, and kill two birds while you’re about it. Stay where you are, and I’ll come down and let you in.”

Here was a dilemma which Raffles himself had not foreseen! Outside, in the dark, my audacious part was not hard to play; but to carry the improvisation indoors was to double at once the difficulty and the risk. It was true that I had purposely come down in a true detective’s overcoat and bowler; but my personal appearance was hardly of the detective type. On the other hand as the soi-disant guardian of the gifts one might only excite suspicion by refusing to enter the house where they were. Nor could I forget that it was my purpose to effect such entry first or last. That was the casting consideration. I decided to take my dilemma by the horns.

There had been a scraping of matches in the room over the conservatory; the open window had shown for a moment, like an empty picture-frame, a gigantic shadow wavering on the ceiling; and in the next half-minute I remembered to tie my shoes. But the light was slow to reappear through the leaded glasses of an outer door farther along the path. And when the door opened, it was a figure of woe that stood within and held an unsteady candle between our faces.

I have seen old men look half their age, and young men look double theirs; but never before or since have I seen a beardless boy bent into a man of eighty, gasping for every breath, shaken by every gasp, swaying, tottering, and choking, as if about to die upon his feet. Yet with it all, young Medlicott overhauled me shrewdly, and it was several moments before he would let me take the candle from him.

“I shouldn’t have come down⁠—made me worse,” he began whispering in spurts. “Worse still going up again. You must