Chapter Chapter 1 · The Ides Of March

I

It was half-past twelve when I returned to the Albany as a last

desperate resort. The scene of my disaster was much as I had left it.

The baccarat-counters still strewed the table, with the empty glasses

and the loaded ash-trays. A window had been opened to let the smoke

out, and was letting in the fog instead. Raffles himself had merely

discarded his dining jacket for one of his innumerable blazers. Yet he

arched his eyebrows as though I had dragged him from his bed.

"Forgotten something?" said he, when he saw me on his mat.

"No," said I, pushing past him without ceremony. And I led the way

into his room with an impudence amazing to myself.

"Not come back for your revenge, have you? Because I'm afraid I can't

give it to you single-handed. I was sorry myself that the others--"

We were face to face by his fireside, and I cut him short.

"Raffles," said I, "you may well be surprised at my coming back in this

way and at this hour. I hardly know you. I was never in your rooms

before to-night. But I fagged for you at school, and you said you

remembered me. Of course that's no excuse; but will you listen to

me--for two minutes?"

In my emotion I had at first to struggle for every word; but his face

reassured me as I went on, and I was not mistaken in its expression.

"Certainly, my dear man," said he; "as many minutes as you like. Have

a Sullivan and sit down." And he handed me his silver cigarette-case.

"No," said I, finding a full voice as I shook my head; "no, I won't

smoke, and I won't sit down, thank you. Nor will you ask me to do

either when you've heard what I have to say."

"Really?" said he, lighting his own cigarette with one clear blue eye

upon me. "How do you know?"

"Because you'll probably show me the door," I cried bitterly; "and you

will be justified in doing it! But it's no use beating about the bush.

You know I dropped over two hundred just now?"

He nodded.

"I hadn't the money in my pocket."

"I remember."

"But I had my check-book, and I wrote each of you a check at that desk."

"Well?"

"Not one of them was worth the paper it was written on, Raffles. I am

overdrawn already at my bank!"

"Surely only for the moment?"

"No. I have spent everything."

"But somebody told me you were so well off. I heard you had come in for

money?"

"So I did. Three years ago. It has been my curse; now it's all

gone--every penny! Yes, I've been a fool; there never was nor will be

such a fool as I've been.... Isn't this enough for you? Why don't you

turn me out?" He was walking up and down with a very long face instead.

"Couldn't your people do anything?" he asked at length.

"Thank God," I cried, "I have no people! I was an only child. I came

in for everything there was. My one comfort is that they're gone, and

will never know."

I cast myself into a chair and hid my face. Raffles continued to pace

the rich carpet that was of a piece with everything else in his rooms.

There was no variation in his soft and even footfalls.

"You used to be a literary little cuss," he said at length; "didn't you

edit the mag. before you left? Anyway I recollect fagging you to do my

verses; and literature of all sorts is the very thing nowadays; any

fool can make a living at it."

I shook my head. "Any fool couldn't write off my debts," said I.

"Then you have a flat somewhere?" he went on.

"Yes, in Mount Street."

"Well, what about the furniture?"

I laughed aloud in my misery. "There's been a bill of sale on every

stick for months!"

And at that Raffles stood still, with raised eyebrows and stern eyes

that I could meet the better now that he knew the worst; then, with a

shrug, he resumed his walk, and for some minutes neither of us spoke.

But in his handsome, unmoved face I read my fate and death-warrant; and

with every breath I cursed my folly and my cowardice in coming to him

at all. Because he had been kind to me at school, when he was captain

of the eleven, and I his fag, I had dared to look for kindness from him

now; because I was ruined, and he rich enough to play cricket all the

summer, and do nothing for the rest of the year, I had fatuously

counted on his mercy, his sympathy, his help! Yes, I had relied on him

in my heart, for all my outward diffidence and humility; and I was

rightly served. There was as little of mercy as of sympathy in that

curling nostril, that rigid jaw, that cold blue eye which never glanced

my way. I caught up my hat. I blundered to my feet. I would have

gone without a word; but Raffles stood between me and the door.

"Where are you going?" said he.

"That's my business," I replied. "I won't trouble YOU any more."

"Then how am I to help you?"

"I didn't ask your help."

"Then why come to me?"

"Why, indeed!" I echoed. "Will you let me pass?"

"Not until you tell me where you are going and what you mean to do."

"Can't you guess?" I cried. And for many seconds we stood staring in

each other's eyes.

"Have you got the pluck?" said he, breaking the spell in a tone so

cynical that it brought my last drop of blood to the boil.

"You shall see," said I, as I stepped back and whipped the pistol from

my overcoat pocket. "Now, will you let me pass or shall I do it here?"

The barrel touched my temple, and my thumb the trigger. Mad with

excitement as I was, ruined, dishonored, and now finally determined to

make an end of my misspent life, my only surprise to this day is that I

did not do so then and there. The despicable satisfaction of involving

another in one's destruction added its miserable appeal to my baser

egoism; and had fear or horror flown to my companion's face, I shudder

to think I might have died diabolically happy with that look for my

last impious consolation. It was the look that came instead which held

my hand. Neither fear nor horror were in it; only wonder, admiration,

and such a measure of pleased expectancy as caused me after all to

pocket my revolver with an oath.

"You devil!" I said. "I believe you wanted me to do it!"

"Not quite," was the reply, made with a little start, and a change of

color that came too late. "To tell you the truth, though, I half

thought you meant it, and I was never more fascinated in my life. I

never dreamt you had such stuff in you, Bunny! No, I'm hanged if I let

you go now. And you'd better not try that game again, for you won't

catch me stand and look on a second time. We must think of some way

out of the mess. I had no idea you were a chap of that sort! There,

let me have the gun."

One of his hands fell kindly on my shoulder, while the other slipped

into my overcoat pocket, and I suffered him to deprive me of my weapon

without a murmur. Nor was this simply because Raffles had the subtle

power of making himself irresistible at will. He was beyond comparison

the most masterful man whom I have ever known; yet my acquiescence was

due to more than the mere subjection of the weaker nature to the

stronger. The forlorn hope which had brought me to the Albany was

turned as by magic into an almost staggering sense of safety. Raffles

would help me after all! A. J. Raffles would be my friend! It was as

though all the world had come round suddenly to my side; so far

therefore from resisting his action, I caught and clasped his hand with

a fervor as uncontrollable as the frenzy which had preceded it.

"God bless you!" I cried. "Forgive me for everything. I will tell you

the truth. I DID think you might help me in my extremity, though I

well knew that I had no claim upon you. Still--for the old school's

sake--the sake of old times--I thought you might give me another

chance. If you wouldn't I meant to blow out my brains--and will still

if you change your mind!"

In truth I feared that it was changing, with his expression, even as I

spoke, and in spite of his kindly tone and kindlier use of my old

school nickname. His next words showed me my mistake.

"What a boy it is for jumping to conclusions! I have my vices, Bunny,

but backing and filling is not one of them. Sit down, my good fellow,

and have a cigarette to soothe your nerves. I insist. Whiskey? The

worst thing for you; here's some coffee that I was brewing when you

came in. Now listen to me. You speak of 'another chance.' What do

you mean? Another chance at baccarat? Not if I know it! You think

the luck must turn; suppose it didn't? We should only have made bad

worse. No, my dear chap, you've plunged enough. Do you put yourself in

my hands or do you not? Very well, then you plunge no more, and I

undertake not to present my check. Unfortunately there are the other

men; and still more unfortunately, Bunny, I'm as hard up at this moment

as you are yourself!"

It was my turn to stare at Raffles. "You?" I vociferated. "You hard

up? How am I to sit here and believe that?"

"Did I refuse to believe it of you?" he returned, smiling. "And, with

your own experience, do you think that because a fellow has rooms in

this place, and belongs to a club or two, and plays a little cricket,

he must necessarily have a balance at the bank? I tell you, my dear

man, that at this moment I'm as hard up as you ever were. I have

nothing but my wits to live on--absolutely nothing else. It was as

necessary for me to win some money this evening as it was for you.

We're in the same boat, Bunny; we'd better pull together."

"Together!" I jumped at it. "I'll do anything in this world for you,

Raffles," I said, "if you really mean that you won't give me away.

Think of anything you like, and I'll do it! I was a desperate man when

I came here, and I'm just as desperate now. I don't mind what I do if

only I can get out of this without a scandal."

Again I see him, leaning back in one of the luxurious chairs with which

his room was furnished. I see his indolent, athletic figure; his pale,

sharp, clean-shaven features; his curly black hair; his strong,

unscrupulous mouth. And again I feel the clear beam of his wonderful

eye, cold and luminous as a star, shining into my brain--sifting the

very secrets of my heart.

"I wonder if you mean all that!" he said at length. "You do in your

present mood; but who can back his mood to last? Still, there's hope

when a chap takes that tone. Now I think of it, too, you were a plucky

little devil at school; you once did me rather a good turn, I

recollect. Remember it, Bunny? Well, wait a bit, and perhaps I'll be

able to do you a better one. Give me time to think."

He got up, lit a fresh cigarette, and fell to pacing the room once

more, but with a slower and more thoughtful step, and for a much longer

period than before. Twice he stopped at my chair as though on the

point of speaking, but each time he checked himself and resumed his

stride in silence. Once he threw up the window, which he had shut some

time since, and stood for some moments leaning out into the fog which

filled the Albany courtyard. Meanwhile a clock on the chimney-piece

struck one, and one again for the half-hour, without a word between us.

Yet I not only kept my chair with patience, but I acquired an

incongruous equanimity in that half-hour. Insensibly I had shifted my

burden to the broad shoulders of this splendid friend, and my thoughts

wandered with my eyes as the minutes passed. The room was the

good-sized, square one, with the folding doors, the marble

mantel-piece, and the gloomy, old-fashioned distinction peculiar to the

Albany. It was charmingly furnished and arranged, with the right

amount of negligence and the right amount of taste. What struck me

most, however, was the absence of the usual insignia of a cricketer's

den. Instead of the conventional rack of war-worn bats, a carved oak

bookcase, with every shelf in a litter, filled the better part of one

wall; and where I looked for cricketing groups, I found reproductions

of such works as "Love and Death" and "The Blessed Damozel," in dusty

frames and different parallels. The man might have been a minor poet

instead of an athlete of the first water. But there had always been a

fine streak of æstheticism in his complex composition; some of these

very pictures I had myself dusted in his study at school; and they set

me thinking of yet another of his many sides--and of the little

incident to which he had just referred.

Everybody knows how largely the tone of a public school depends on that

of the eleven, and on the character of the captain of cricket in

particular; and I have never heard it denied that in A. J. Raffles's

time our tone was good, or that such influence as he troubled to exert

was on the side of the angels. Yet it was whispered in the school that

he was in the habit of parading the town at night in loud checks and a

false beard. It was whispered, and disbelieved. I alone knew it for a

fact; for night after night had I pulled the rope up after him when the

rest of the dormitory were asleep, and kept awake by the hour to let it

down again on a given signal. Well, one night he was over-bold, and

within an ace of ignominious expulsion in the hey-day of his fame.

Consummate daring and extraordinary nerve on his part, aided,

doubtless, by some little presence of mind on mine, averted the

untoward result; and no more need be said of a discreditable incident.

But I cannot pretend to have forgotten it in throwing myself on this

man's mercy in my desperation. And I was wondering how much of his

leniency was owing to the fact that Raffles had not forgotten it

either, when he stopped and stood over my chair once more.

"I've been thinking of that night we had the narrow squeak," he began.

"Why do you start?"

"I was thinking of it too."

He smiled, as though he had read my thoughts.

"Well, you were the right sort of little beggar then, Bunny; you didn't

talk and you didn't flinch. You asked no questions and you told no

tales. I wonder if you're like that now?"

"I don't know," said I, slightly puzzled by his tone. "I've made such

a mess of my own affairs that I trust myself about as little as I'm

likely to be trusted by anybody else. Yet I never in my life went back

on a friend. I will say that, otherwise perhaps I mightn't be in such

a hole to-night."

"Exactly," said Raffles, nodding to himself, as though in assent to

some hidden train of thought; "exactly what I remember of you, and I'll

bet it's as true now as it was ten years ago. We don't alter, Bunny.

We only develop. I suppose neither you nor I are really altered since

you used to let down that rope and I used to come up it hand over hand.

You would stick at nothing for a pal--what?"

"At nothing in this world," I was pleased to cry.

"Not even at a crime?" said Raffles, smiling.

I stopped to think, for his tone had changed, and I felt sure he was

chaffing me. Yet his eye seemed as much in earnest as ever, and for my

part I was in no mood for reservations.

"No, not even at that," I declared; "name your crime, and I'm your man."

He looked at me one moment in wonder, and another moment in doubt; then

turned the matter off with a shake of his head, and the little cynical

laugh that was all his own.

"You're a nice chap, Bunny! A real desperate character--what? Suicide

one moment, and any crime I like the next! What you want is a drag, my

boy, and you did well to come to a decent law-abiding citizen with a

reputation to lose. None the less we must have that money to-night--by

hook or crook."

"To-night, Raffles?"

"The sooner the better. Every hour after ten o'clock to-morrow morning

is an hour of risk. Let one of those checks get round to your own

bank, and you and it are dishonored together. No, we must raise the

wind to-night and re-open your account first thing to-morrow. And I

rather think I know where the wind can be raised."

"At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Yes."

"But how--but where--at such an hour?"

"From a friend of mine here in Bond Street."

"He must be a very intimate friend!"

"Intimate's not the word. I have the run of his place and a latch-key

all to myself."

"You would knock him up at this hour of the night?"

"If he's in bed."

"And it's essential that I should go in with you?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I must; but I'm bound to say I don't like the idea, Raffles."

"Do you prefer the alternative?" asked my companion, with a sneer.

"No, hang it, that's unfair!" he cried apologetically in the same

breath. "I quite understand. It's a beastly ordeal. But it would

never do for you to stay outside. I tell you what, you shall have a

peg before we start--just one. There's the whiskey, here's a syphon,

and I'll be putting on an overcoat while you help yourself."

Well, I daresay I did so with some freedom, for this plan of his was

not the less distasteful to me from its apparent inevitability. I must

own, however, that it possessed fewer terrors before my glass was

empty. Meanwhile Raffles rejoined me, with a covert coat over his

blazer, and a soft felt hat set carelessly on the curly head he shook

with a smile as I passed him the decanter.

"When we come back," said he. "Work first, play afterward. Do you see

what day it is?" he added, tearing a leaflet from a Shakespearian

calendar, as I drained my glass. "March 15th. 'The Ides of March, the

Ides of March, remember.' Eh, Bunny, my boy? You won't forget them,

will you?"

And, with a laugh, he threw some coals on the fire before turning down

the gas like a careful householder. So we went out together as the

clock on the chimney-piece was striking two.

II

Piccadilly was a trench of raw white fog, rimmed with blurred

street-lamps, and lined with a thin coating of adhesive mud. We met no

other wayfarers on the deserted flagstones, and were ourselves favored

with a very hard stare from the constable of the beat, who, however,

touched his helmet on recognizing my companion.

"You see, I'm known to the police," laughed Raffles as we passed on.

"Poor devils, they've got to keep their weather eye open on a night

like this! A fog may be a bore to you and me, Bunny, but it's a

perfect godsend to the criminal classes, especially so late in their

season. Here we are, though--and I'm hanged if the beggar isn't in bed

and asleep after all!"

We had turned into Bond Street, and had halted on the curb a few yards

down on the right. Raffles was gazing up at some windows across the

road, windows barely discernible through the mist, and without the

glimmer of a light to throw them out. They were over a jeweller's shop,

as I could see by the peep-hole in the shop door, and the bright light

burning within. But the entire "upper part," with the private

street-door next the shop, was black and blank as the sky itself.

"Better give it up for to-night," I urged. "Surely the morning will be

time enough!"

"Not a bit of it," said Raffles. "I have his key. We'll surprise him.

Come along."

And seizing my right arm, he hurried me across the road, opened the

door with his latch-key, and in another moment had shut it swiftly but

softly behind us. We stood together in the dark. Outside, a measured

step was approaching; we had heard it through the fog as we crossed the

street; now, as it drew nearer, my companion's fingers tightened on my

arm.

"It may be the chap himself," he whispered. "He's the devil of a

night-bird. Not a sound, Bunny! We'll startle the life out of him.

Ah!"

The measured step had passed without a pause. Raffles drew a deep

breath, and his singular grip of me slowly relaxed.

"But still, not a sound," he continued in the same whisper; "we'll take

a rise out of him, wherever he is! Slip off your shoes and follow me."

Well, you may wonder at my doing so; but you can never have met A. J.

Raffles. Half his power lay in a conciliating trick of sinking the

commander in the leader. And it was impossible not to follow one who

led with such a zest. You might question, but you followed first. So

now, when I heard him kick off his own shoes, I did the same, and was

on the stairs at his heels before I realized what an extraordinary way

was this of approaching a stranger for money in the dead of night. But

obviously Raffles and he were on exceptional terms of intimacy, and I

could not but infer that they were in the habit of playing practical

jokes upon each other.

We groped our way so slowly upstairs that I had time to make more than

one note before we reached the top. The stair was uncarpeted. The

spread fingers of my right hand encountered nothing on the damp wall;

those of my left trailed through a dust that could be felt on the

banisters. An eerie sensation had been upon me since we entered the

house. It increased with every step we climbed. What hermit were we

going to startle in his cell?

We came to a landing. The banisters led us to the left, and to the

left again. Four steps more, and we were on another and a longer

landing, and suddenly a match blazed from the black. I never heard it

struck. Its flash was blinding. When my eyes became accustomed to the

light, there was Raffles holding up the match with one hand, and

shading it with the other, between bare boards, stripped walls, and the

open doors of empty rooms.

"Where have you brought me?" I cried. "The house is unoccupied!"

"Hush! Wait!" he whispered, and he led the way into one of the empty

rooms. His match went out as we crossed the threshold, and he struck

another without the slightest noise. Then he stood with his back to

me, fumbling with something that I could not see. But, when he threw

the second match away, there was some other light in its stead, and a

slight smell of oil. I stepped forward to look over his shoulder, but

before I could do so he had turned and flashed a tiny lantern in my

face.

"What's this?" I gasped. "What rotten trick are you going to play?"

"It's played," he answered, with his quiet laugh.

"On me?"

"I am afraid so, Bunny."

"Is there no one in the house, then?"

"No one but ourselves."

"So it was mere chaff about your friend in Bond Street, who could let

us have that money?"

"Not altogether. It's quite true that Danby is a friend of mine."

"Danby?"

"The jeweller underneath."

"What do you mean?" I whispered, trembling like a leaf as his meaning

dawned upon me. "Are we to get the money from the jeweller?"

"Well, not exactly."

"What, then?"

"The equivalent--from his shop."

There was no need for another question. I understood everything but my

own density. He had given me a dozen hints, and I had taken none. And

there I stood staring at him, in that empty room; and there he stood

with his dark lantern, laughing at me.

"A burglar!" I gasped. "You--you!"

"I told you I lived by my wits."

"Why couldn't you tell me what you were going to do? Why couldn't you

trust me? Why must you lie?" I demanded, piqued to the quick for all

my horror.

"I wanted to tell you," said he. "I was on the point of telling you

more than once. You may remember how I sounded you about crime, though

you have probably forgotten what you said yourself. I didn't think you

meant it at the time, but I thought I'd put you to the test. Now I see

you didn't, and I don't blame you. I only am to blame. Get out of it,

my dear boy, as quick as you can; leave it to me. You won't give me

away, whatever else you do!"

Oh, his cleverness! His fiendish cleverness! Had he fallen back on

threats, coercion, sneers, all might have been different even yet. But

he set me free to leave him in the lurch. He would not blame me. He

did not even bind me to secrecy; he trusted me. He knew my weakness

and my strength, and was playing on both with his master's touch.

"Not so fast," said I. "Did I put this into your head, or were you

going to do it in any case?"

"Not in any case," said Raffles. "It's true I've had the key for days,

but when I won to-night I thought of chucking it; for, as a matter of

fact, it's not a one-man job."

"That settles it. I'm your man."

"You mean it?"

"Yes--for to-night."

"Good old Bunny," he murmured, holding the lantern for one moment to my

face; the next he was explaining his plans, and I was nodding, as

though we had been fellow-cracksmen all our days.

"I know the shop," he whispered, "because I've got a few things there.

I know this upper part too; it's been to let for a month, and I got an

order to view, and took a cast of the key before using it. The one

thing I don't know is how to make a connection between the two; at

present there's none. We may make it up here, though I rather fancy the

basement myself. If you wait a minute I'll tell you."

He set his lantern on the floor, crept to a back window, and opened it

with scarcely a sound: only to return, shaking his head, after shutting

the window with the same care.

"That was our one chance," said he; "a back window above a back window;

but it's too dark to see anything, and we daren't show an outside

light. Come down after me to the basement; and remember, though there's

not a soul on the premises, you can't make too little noise.

There--there--listen to that!"

It was the measured tread that we had heard before on the flagstones

outside. Raffles darkened his lantern, and again we stood motionless

till it had passed.

"Either a policeman," he muttered, "or a watchman that all these

jewellers run between them. The watchman's the man for us to watch;

he's simply paid to spot this kind of thing."

We crept very gingerly down the stairs, which creaked a bit in spite of

us, and we picked up our shoes in the passage; then down some narrow

stone steps, at the foot of which Raffles showed his light, and put on

his shoes once more, bidding me do the same in a rather louder tone

than he had permitted himself to employ overhead. We were now

considerably below the level of the street, in a small space with as

many doors as it had sides. Three were ajar, and we saw through them

into empty cellars; but in the fourth a key was turned and a bolt

drawn; and this one presently let us out into the bottom of a deep,

square well of fog. A similar door faced it across this area, and

Raffles had the lantern close against it, and was hiding the light with

his body, when a short and sudden crash made my heart stand still.

Next moment I saw the door wide open, and Raffles standing within and

beckoning me with a jimmy.

"Door number one," he whispered. "Deuce knows how many more there'll

be, but I know of two at least. We won't have to make much noise over

them, either; down here there's less risk."

We were now at the bottom of the exact fellow to the narrow stone stair

which we had just descended: the yard, or well, being the one part

common to both the private and the business premises. But this flight

led to no open passage; instead, a singularly solid mahogany door

confronted us at the top.

"I thought so," muttered Raffles, handing me the lantern, and pocketing

a bunch of skeleton keys, after tampering for a few minutes with the

lock. "It'll be an hour's work to get through that!"

"Can't you pick it?"

"No: I know these locks. It's no use trying. We must cut it out, and

it'll take us an hour."

It took us forty-seven minutes by my watch; or, rather, it took

Raffles; and never in my life have I seen anything more deliberately

done. My part was simply to stand by with the dark lantern in one

hand, and a small bottle of rock-oil in the other.

Raffles had produced a pretty embroidered case, intended obviously for

his razors, but filled instead with the tools of his secret trade,

including the rock-oil. From this case he selected a "bit," capable of

drilling a hole an inch in diameter, and fitted it to a small but very

strong steel "brace." Then he took off his covert-coat and his blazer,

spread them neatly on the top step--knelt on them--turned up his shirt

cuffs--and went to work with brace-and-bit near the key-hole. But

first he oiled the bit to minimize the noise, and this he did

invariably before beginning a fresh hole, and often in the middle of

one. It took thirty-two separate borings to cut around that lock.

I noticed that through the first circular orifice Raffles thrust a

forefinger; then, as the circle became an ever-lengthening oval, he got

his hand through up to the thumb; and I heard him swear softly to

himself.

"I was afraid so!"

"What is it?"

"An iron gate on the other side!"

"How on earth are we to get through that?" I asked in dismay.

"Pick the lock. But there may be two. In that case they'll be top and

bottom, and we shall have two fresh holes to make, as the door opens

inwards. It won't open two inches as it is."

I confess I did not feel sanguine about the lock-picking, seeing that

one lock had baffled us already; and my disappointment and impatience

must have been a revelation to me had I stopped to think. The truth is

that I was entering into our nefarious undertaking with an involuntary

zeal of which I was myself quite unconscious at the time. The romance

and the peril of the whole proceeding held me spellbound and entranced.

My moral sense and my sense of fear were stricken by a common

paralysis. And there I stood, shining my light and holding my phial

with a keener interest than I had ever brought to any honest avocation.

And there knelt A. J. Raffles, with his black hair tumbled, and the

same watchful, quiet, determined half-smile with which I have seen him

send down over after over in a county match!

At last the chain of holes was complete, the lock wrenched out bodily,

and a splendid bare arm plunged up to the shoulder through the

aperture, and through the bars of the iron gate beyond.

"Now," whispered Raffles, "if there's only one lock it'll be in the

middle. Joy! Here it is! Only let me pick it, and we're through at

last."

He withdrew his arm, a skeleton key was selected from the bunch, and

then back went his arm to the shoulder. It was a breathless moment. I

heard the heart throbbing in my body, the very watch ticking in my

pocket, and ever and anon the tinkle-tinkle of the skeleton key.

Then--at last--there came a single unmistakable click. In another

minute the mahogany door and the iron gate yawned behind us; and

Raffles was sitting on an office table, wiping his face, with the

lantern throwing a steady beam by his side.

We were now in a bare and roomy lobby behind the shop, but separated

therefrom by an iron curtain, the very sight of which filled me with

despair. Raffles, however, did not appear in the least depressed, but

hung up his coat and hat on some pegs in the lobby before examining

this curtain with his lantern.

"That's nothing," said he, after a minute's inspection; "we'll be

through that in no time, but there's a door on the other side which may

give us trouble."

"Another door!" I groaned. "And how do you mean to tackle this thing?"

"Prise it up with the jointed jimmy. The weak point of these iron

curtains is the leverage you can get from below. But it makes a noise,

and this is where you're coming in, Bunny; this is where I couldn't do

without you. I must have you overhead to knock through when the

street's clear. I'll come with you and show a light."

Well, you may imagine how little I liked the prospect of this lonely

vigil; and yet there was something very stimulating in the vital

responsibility which it involved. Hitherto I had been a mere

spectator. Now I was to take part in the game. And the fresh

excitement made me more than ever insensible to those considerations of

conscience and of safety which were already as dead nerves in my breast.

So I took my post without a murmur in the front room above the shop.

The fixtures had been left for the refusal of the incoming tenant, and

fortunately for us they included Venetian blinds which were already

down. It was the simplest matter in the world to stand peeping through

the laths into the street, to beat twice with my foot when anybody was

approaching, and once when all was clear again. The noises that even I

could hear below, with the exception of one metallic crash at the

beginning, were indeed incredibly slight; but they ceased altogether at

each double rap from my toe; and a policeman passed quite half a dozen

times beneath my eyes, and the man whom I took to be the jeweller's

watchman oftener still, during the better part of an hour that I spent

at the window. Once, indeed, my heart was in my mouth, but only once.

It was when the watchman stopped and peered through the peep-hole into

the lighted shop. I waited for his whistle--I waited for the gallows

or the gaol! But my signals had been studiously obeyed, and the man

passed on in undisturbed serenity.

In the end I had a signal in my turn, and retraced my steps with

lighted matches, down the broad stairs, down the narrow ones, across

the area, and up into the lobby where Raffles awaited me with an

outstretched hand.

"Well done, my boy!" said he. "You're the same good man in a pinch,

and you shall have your reward. I've got a thousand pounds' worth if

I've got a penn'oth. It's all in my pockets. And here's something

else I found in this locker; very decent port and some cigars, meant

for poor dear Danby's business friends. Take a pull, and you shall

light up presently. I've found a lavatory, too, and we must have a

wash-and-brush-up before we go, for I'm as black as your boot."

The iron curtain was down, but he insisted on raising it until I could

peep through the glass door on the other side and see his handiwork in

the shop beyond. Here two electric lights were left burning all night

long, and in their cold white rays I could at first see nothing amiss.

I looked along an orderly lane, an empty glass counter on my left,

glass cupboards of untouched silver on my right, and facing me the

filmy black eye of the peep-hole that shone like a stage moon on the

street. The counter had not been emptied by Raffles; its contents were

in the Chubb's safe, which he had given up at a glance; nor had he

looked at the silver, except to choose a cigarette case for me. He had

confined himself entirely to the shop window. This was in three

compartments, each secured for the night by removable panels with

separate locks. Raffles had removed them a few hours before their time,

and the electric light shone on a corrugated shutter bare as the ribs

of an empty carcase. Every article of value was gone from the one

place which was invisible from the little window in the door; elsewhere

all was as it had been left overnight. And but for a train of mangled

doors behind the iron curtain, a bottle of wine and a cigar-box with

which liberties had been taken, a rather black towel in the lavatory, a

burnt match here and there, and our finger-marks on the dusty

banisters, not a trace of our visit did we leave.

"Had it in my head for long?" said Raffles, as we strolled through the

streets towards dawn, for all the world as though we were returning

from a dance. "No, Bunny, I never thought of it till I saw that upper

part empty about a month ago, and bought a few things in the shop to

get the lie of the land. That reminds me that I never paid for them;

but, by Jove, I will to-morrow, and if that isn't poetic justice, what

is? One visit showed me the possibilities of the place, but a second

convinced me of its impossibilities without a pal. So I had

practically given up the idea, when you came along on the very night

and in the very plight for it! But here we are at the Albany, and I

hope there's some fire left; for I don't know how you feel, Bunny, but

for my part I'm as cold as Keats's owl."

He could think of Keats on his way from a felony! He could hanker for

his fireside like another! Floodgates were loosed within me, and the

plain English of our adventure rushed over me as cold as ice. Raffles

was a burglar. I had helped him to commit one burglary, therefore I

was a burglar, too. Yet I could stand and warm myself by his fire, and

watch him empty his pockets, as though we had done nothing wonderful or

wicked!

My blood froze. My heart sickened. My brain whirled. How I had liked

this villain! How I had admired him! Now my liking and admiration

must turn to loathing and disgust. I waited for the change. I longed

to feel it in my heart. But--I longed and I waited in vain!

I saw that he was emptying his pockets; the table sparkled with their

hoard. Rings by the dozen, diamonds by the score; bracelets, pendants,

aigrettes, necklaces, pearls, rubies, amethysts, sapphires; and

diamonds always, diamonds in everything, flashing bayonets of light,

dazzling me--blinding me--making me disbelieve because I could no

longer forget. Last of all came no gem, indeed, but my own revolver

from an inner pocket. And that struck a chord. I suppose I said

something--my hand flew out. I can see Raffles now, as he looked at me

once more with a high arch over each clear eye. I can see him pick out

the cartridges with his quiet, cynical smile, before he would give me

my pistol back again.

"You mayn't believe it, Bunny," said he, "but I never carried a loaded

one before. On the whole I think it gives one confidence. Yet it

would be very awkward if anything went wrong; one might use it, and

that's not the game at all, though I have often thought that the

murderer who has just done the trick must have great sensations before

things get too hot for him. Don't look so distressed, my dear chap.

I've never had those sensations, and I don't suppose I ever shall."

"But this much you have done before?" said I hoarsely.

"Before? My dear Bunny, you offend me! Did it look like a first

attempt? Of course I have done it before."

"Often?"

"Well--no! Not often enough to destroy the charm, at all events;

never, as a matter of fact, unless I'm cursedly hard up. Did you hear

about the Thimbleby diamonds? Well, that was the last time--and a poor

lot of paste they were. Then there was the little business of the

Dormer house-boat at Henley last year. That was mine also--such as it

was. I've never brought off a really big coup yet; when I do I shall

chuck it up."

Yes, I remembered both cases very well. To think that he was their

author! It was incredible, outrageous, inconceivable. Then my eyes

would fall upon the table, twinkling and glittering in a hundred

places, and incredulity was at an end.

"How came you to begin?" I asked, as curiosity overcame mere wonder,

and a fascination for his career gradually wove itself into my

fascination for the man.

"Ah! that's a long story," said Raffles. "It was in the Colonies, when

I was out there playing cricket. It's too long a story to tell you

now, but I was in much the same fix that you were in to-night, and it

was my only way out. I never meant it for anything more; but I'd

tasted blood, and it was all over with me. Why should I work when I

could steal? Why settle down to some humdrum uncongenial billet, when

excitement, romance, danger and a decent living were all going begging

together? Of course it's very wrong, but we can't all be moralists,

and the distribution of wealth is very wrong to begin with. Besides,

you're not at it all the time. I'm sick of quoting Gilbert's lines to

myself, but they're profoundly true. I only wonder if you'll like the

life as much as I do!"

"Like it?" I cried out. "Not I! It's no life for me. Once is enough!"

"You wouldn't give me a hand another time?"

"Don't ask me, Raffles. Don't ask me, for God's sake!"

"Yet you said you would do anything for me! You asked me to name my

crime! But I knew at the time you didn't mean it; you didn't go back

on me to-night, and that ought to satisfy me, goodness knows! I

suppose I'm ungrateful, and unreasonable, and all that. I ought to let

it end at this. But you're the very man for me, Bunny, the--very--man!

Just think how we got through to-night. Not a scratch--not a hitch!

There's nothing very terrible in it, you see; there never would be,

while we worked together."

He was standing in front of me with a hand on either shoulder; he was

smiling as he knew so well how to smile. I turned on my heel, planted

my elbows on the chimney-piece, and my burning head between my hands.

Next instant a still heartier hand had fallen on my back.

"All right, my boy! You are quite right and I'm worse than wrong.

I'll never ask it again. Go, if you want to, and come again about

mid-day for the cash. There was no bargain; but, of course, I'll get

you out of your scrape--especially after the way you've stood by me

to-night."

I was round again with my blood on fire.

"I'll do it again," I said, through my teeth.

He shook his head. "Not you," he said, smiling quite good-humoredly on

my insane enthusiasm.

"I will," I cried with an oath. "I'll lend you a hand as often as you

like! What does it matter now? I've been in it once. I'll be in it

again. I've gone to the devil anyhow. I can't go back, and wouldn't

if I could. Nothing matters another rap! When you want me, I'm your

man!"

And that is how Raffles and I joined felonious forces on the Ides of

March.