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

in the pond. I’m doing the same with mine. Here’s a brown pair apiece, and we mustn’t let the grass grow under them if we’re to get to the station in time for the early train while the coast’s still clear.”

The early train leaves the station in question at 6:20 a.m.; and that fine spring morning there was a police officer in a peaked cap to see it off; but he was too busy peering into the compartments for a pair of very swell mobsmen that he took no notice of the huge man in riding-clothes, who was obviously intoxicated, or the more insignificant but not less horsy character who had him in hand. The early train is due at Victoria at 8:28, but these worthies left it at Clapham Junction, and changed cabs more than once between Battersea and Piccadilly, and a few of their garments in each four-wheeler. It was barely nine o’clock when they sat together in the Albany, and might have been recognized once more as Raffles and myself.

“And now,” said Raffles, “before we do anything else, let us turn out those little cases that we hadn’t time to open when we took them. I mean the ones I handed to you, Bunny. I had a look into mine in the garden, and I’m sorry to say there was nothing in them. The lady must have been wearing their proper contents.”

Raffles held out his hand for the substantial leather cases which I had produced at his request. But that was the extent of my compliance; instead of handing them over, I looked boldly into the eyes that seemed to have discerned my wretched secret at one glance.

“It is no use my giving them to you,” I said. “They are empty also.”

“When did you look into them?”

“In the tower.”

“Well, let me see for myself.”

“As you like.”

“My dear Bunny, this one must have contained the necklace you boasted about.”

“Very likely.”

“And this one the tiara.”

“I dare say.”

“Yet she was wearing neither, as you prophesied, and as we both saw for ourselves.”

I had not taken my eyes from his.

“Raffles,” I said, “I’ll be frank with you after all. I meant you never to know, but it’s easier than telling you a lie. I left both things behind me in the tower. I won’t attempt to explain or defend myself; it was probably the influence of the tower, and nothing else; but the whole thing came over me at the last moment, when you had gone and I was going. I felt that I should very probably break my neck, that I cared very little whether I did or not, but that it would be frightful to break it at that house with those things in my pocket. You may say I ought to have thought of all that before! you may say what you like, and you won’t say more than I deserve. It was hysterical, and it was mean, for I kept the cases to impose on you.”

“You were always a bad liar, Bunny,” said Raffles, smiling. “Will you think me one when I tell you that I can understand what you felt, and even what you did? As a matter of fact, I have understood for several hours now.”

“You mean what I felt, Raffles?”

“And what you did. I guessed it in the boathouse. I knew that something must have happened or been discovered to disperse that truculent party of sportsmen so soon and on such good terms with themselves. They had not got us; they might have got something better worth having; and your phlegmatic attitude suggested what. As luck would have it, the cases that I personally had collared were the empty ones; the two prizes had fallen to you. Well, to allay my horrid suspicion, I went and had another peep through the lighted venetians. And what do you think I saw?”

I shook my head. I had no idea, nor was I very eager for enlightenment.

“The two poor people whom it was your own idea to despoil,” quoth Raffles, “prematurely gloating over these two pretty things?”

He withdrew a hand from either pocket of his crumpled dinner-jacket, and opened the pair under my nose. In one was a diamond tiara, and in the other a necklace of fine emeralds set in clusters of brilliants.

“You must try to forgive me, Bunny,” continued Raffles before I could speak. “I don’t say a word against what you did, or undid; in fact, now it’s all over, I am rather glad to think that you did try to undo it. But, my dear fellow, we had both risked life, limb, and liberty; and I had not your sentimental scruples. Why should I go empty away? If you want to know the inner history of my second visit to that good fellow’s dressing-room, drive home for a fresh kit and meet me at the Turkish bath in twenty minutes. I feel more than a little grubby, and we can have our breakfast in the cooling gallery. Besides, after a whole night in your old haunts, Bunny, it’s only in order to wind up in Northumberland Avenue.”

The Raffles Relics

It was in one of the magazines for December, 1899, that an article appeared which afforded our minds a brief respite from the then consuming excitement of the war in South Africa. These were the days when Raffles really had white hair, and when he and I were nearing the end of our surreptitious second innings, as professional cracksmen of the deadliest dye. Piccadilly and the Albany knew us no more. But we still operated, as the spirit tempted us, from our latest and most idyllic base, on the borders of Ham Common. Recreation was our greatest want; and though we had both descended to the humble bicycle, a lot of reading was forced upon us in the winter evenings. Thus the war came as a boon to us both. It not only provided us with an honest interest