The Amateur Cracksman - E. W. Hornung (best ebook reader for pc txt) 📗

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!”

Crawshay slapped his thigh.

“That’s talking!” said he. “Lord love yer, I know where I am when you talk like that. I’ll trust yer. I know a man when he gets his tongue between his teeth; you’re all right. I don’t say so much about this other gent,