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

its setting, replacing the latter), so that we could stand the strictest search and yet take it ashore with us at Naples; and this Raffles was doing when I turned in. I myself would have landed incontinently, that night, at Genoa and bolted with the spoil; he would not hear of it, for a dozen good reasons which will be obvious.

On the whole I do not think that anything was discovered or suspected before we weighed anchor; but I cannot be sure. It is difficult to believe that a man could be chloroformed in his sleep and feel no telltale effects, sniff no suspicious odor, in the morning. Nevertheless, von Heumann reappeared as though nothing had happened to him, his German cap over his eyes and his mustaches brushing the peak. And by ten o’clock we were quit of Genoa; the last lean, blue-chinned official had left our decks; the last fruitseller had been beaten off with bucketsful of water and left cursing us from his boat; the last passenger had come aboard at the last moment⁠—a fussy graybeard who kept the big ship waiting while he haggled with his boatman over half a lira. But at length we were off, the tug was shed, the lighthouse passed, and Raffles and I leaned together over the rail, watching our shadows on the pale green, liquid, veined marble that again washed the vessel’s side.

Von Heumann was having his innings once more; it was part of the design that he should remain in all day, and so postpone the inevitable hour; and, though the lady looked bored, and was forever glancing in our direction, he seemed only too willing to avail himself of his opportunities. But Raffles was moody and ill-at-ease. He had not the air of a successful man. I could but opine that the impending parting at Naples sat heavily on his spirit.

He would neither talk to me, nor would he let me go.

“Stop where you are, Bunny. I’ve things to tell you. Can you swim?”

“A bit.”

“Ten miles?”

“Ten?” I burst out laughing. “Not one! Why do you ask?”

“We shall be within a ten miles’ swim of the shore most of the day.”

“What on earth are you driving at, Raffles?”

“Nothing; only I shall swim for it if the worst comes to the worst. I suppose you can’t swim under water at all?”

I did not answer his question. I scarcely heard it: cold beads were bursting through my skin.

“Why should the worst come to the worst?” I whispered. “We aren’t found out, are we?”

“No.”

“Then why speak as though we were?”

“We may be; an old enemy of ours is on board.”

“An old enemy?”

“Mackenzie.”

“Never!”

“The man with the beard who came aboard last.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure! I was only sorry to see you didn’t recognize him too.”

I took my handkerchief to my face; now that I thought of it, there had been something familiar in the old man’s gait, as well as something rather youthful for his apparent years; his very beard seemed unconvincing, now that I recalled it in the light of this horrible revelation. I looked up and down the deck, but the old man was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s the worst of it,” said Raffles. “I saw him go into the captain’s cabin twenty minutes ago.”

“But what can have brought him?” I cried miserably. “Can it be a coincidence⁠—is it somebody else he’s after?”

Raffles shook his head.

“Hardly this time.”

“Then you think he’s after you?”

“I’ve been afraid of it for some weeks.”

“Yet there you stand!”

“What am I to do? I don’t want to swim for it before I must. I begin to wish I’d taken your advice, Bunny, and left the ship at Genoa. But I’ve not the smallest doubt that Mac was watching both ship and station till the last moment. That’s why he ran it so fine.”

He took a cigarette and handed me the case, but I shook my head impatiently.

“I still don’t understand,” said I. “Why should he be after you? He couldn’t come all this way about a jewel which was perfectly safe for all he knew. What’s your own theory?”

“Simply that he’s been on my track for some time, probably ever since friend Crawshay slipped clean through his fingers last November. There have been other indications. I am really not unprepared for this. But it can only be pure suspicion. I’ll defy him to bring anything home, and I’ll defy him to find the pearl! Theory, my dear Bunny? I know how he’s got here as well as though I’d been inside that Scotchman’s skin, and I know what he’ll do next. He found out I’d gone abroad, and looked for a motive; he found out about von Heumann and his mission, and there was his motive cut-and-dried. Great chance⁠—to nab me on a new job altogether. But he won’t do it, Bunny; mark my words, he’ll search the ship and search us all, when the loss is known; but he’ll search in vain. And there’s the skipper beckoning the whippersnapper to his cabin: the fat will be in the fire in five minutes!”

Yet there was no conflagration, no fuss, no searching of the passengers, no whisper of what had happened in the air; instead of a stir there was portentous peace; and it was clear to me that Raffles was not a little disturbed at the falsification of all his predictions. There was something sinister in silence under such a loss, and the silence was sustained for hours during which Mackenzie never reappeared. But he was abroad during the luncheon-hour⁠—he was in our cabin! I had left my book in Raffles’s berth, and in taking it after lunch I touched the quilt. It was warm from the recent pressure of flesh and blood, and on an instinct I sprang to the ventilator; as I opened it the ventilator opposite was closed with a snap.

I waylaid Raffles. “All right! Let him find the pearl.”

“Have you dumped it overboard?”

“That’s a question I shan’t condescend to answer.”

He turned on his heel,