Bab Bab 2 · A Costume Piece

London was just then talking of one whose name is already a name and

nothing more. Reuben Rosenthall had made his millions on the diamond

fields of South Africa, and had come home to enjoy them according to

his lights; how he went to work will scarcely be forgotten by any

reader of the halfpenny evening papers, which revelled in endless

anecdotes of his original indigence and present prodigality, varied

with interesting particulars of the extraordinary establishment which

the millionaire set up in St. John's Wood. Here he kept a retinue of

Kaffirs, who were literally his slaves; and hence he would sally, with

enormous diamonds in his shirt and on his finger, in the convoy of a

prize-fighter of heinous repute, who was not, however, by any means the

worst element in the Rosenthall mélange. So said common gossip; but

the fact was sufficiently established by the interference of the police

on at least one occasion, followed by certain magisterial proceedings

which were reported with justifiable gusto and huge headlines in the

newspapers aforesaid.

And this was all one knew of Reuben Rosenthall up to the time when the

Old Bohemian Club, having fallen on evil days, found it worth its while

to organize a great dinner in honor of so wealthy an exponent of the

club's principles. I was not at the banquet myself, but a member took

Raffles, who told me all about it that very night.

"Most extraordinary show I ever went to in my life," said he. "As for

the man himself--well, I was prepared for something grotesque, but the

fellow fairly took my breath away. To begin with, he's the most

astounding brute to look at, well over six feet, with a chest like a

barrel, and a great hook-nose, and the reddest hair and whiskers you

ever saw. Drank like a fire-engine, but only got drunk enough to make

us a speech that I wouldn't have missed for ten pounds. I'm only sorry

you weren't there, too, Bunny, old chap."

I began to be sorry myself, for Raffles was anything but an excitable

person, and never had I seen him so excited before. Had he been

following Rosenthall's example? His coming to my rooms at midnight,

merely to tell me about his dinner, was in itself enough to excuse a

suspicion which was certainly at variance with my knowledge of A. J.

Raffles.

"What did he say?" I inquired mechanically, divining some subtler

explanation of this visit, and wondering what on earth it could be.

"Say?" cried Raffles. "What did he not say! He boasted of his rise,

he bragged of his riches, and he blackguarded society for taking him up

for his money and dropping him out of sheer pique and jealousy because

he had so much. He mentioned names, too, with the most charming

freedom, and swore he was as good a man as the Old Country had to

show--PACE the Old Bohemians. To prove it he pointed to a great diamond

in the middle of his shirt-front with a little finger loaded with

another just like it: which of our bloated princes could show a pair

like that? As a matter of fact, they seemed quite wonderful stones,

with a curious purple gleam to them that must mean a pot of money. But

old Rosenthall swore he wouldn't take fifty thousand pounds for the

two, and wanted to know where the other man was who went about with

twenty-five thousand in his shirt-front and another twenty-five on his

little finger. He didn't exist. If he did, he wouldn't have the pluck

to wear them. But _he_ had--he'd tell us why. And before you could say

Jack Robinson he had whipped out a whacking great revolver!"

"Not at the table?"

"At the table! In the middle of his speech! But it was nothing to

what he wanted to do. He actually wanted us to let him write his name

in bullets on the opposite wall, to show us why he wasn't afraid to go

about in all his diamonds! That brute Purvis, the prize-fighter, who

is his paid bully, had to bully his master before he could be persuaded

out of it. There was quite a panic for the moment; one fellow was

saying his prayers under the table, and the waiters bolted to a man."

"What a grotesque scene!"

"Grotesque enough, but I rather wish they had let him go the whole hog

and blaze away. He was as keen as knives to show us how he could take

care of his purple diamonds; and, do you know, Bunny, _I_ was as keen

as knives to see."

And Raffles leaned towards me with a sly, slow smile that made the

hidden meaning of his visit only too plain to me at last.

"So you think of having a try for his diamonds yourself?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It is horribly obvious, I admit. But--yes, I have set my heart upon

them! To be quite frank, I have had them on my conscience for some

time; one couldn't hear so much of the man, and his prize-fighter, and

his diamonds, without feeling it a kind of duty to have a go for them;

but when it comes to brandishing a revolver and practically challenging

the world, the thing becomes inevitable. It is simply thrust upon one.

I was fated to hear that challenge, Bunny, and I, for one, must take it

up. I was only sorry I couldn't get on my hind legs and say so then

and there."

"Well," I said, "I don't see the necessity as things are with us; but,

of course, I'm your man."

My tone may have been half-hearted. I did my best to make it

otherwise. But it was barely a month since our Bond Street exploit,

and we certainly could have afforded to behave ourselves for some time

to come. We had been getting along so nicely: by his advice I had

scribbled a thing or two; inspired by Raffles, I had even done an

article on our own jewel robbery; and for the moment I was quite

satisfied with this sort of adventure. I thought we ought to know when

we were well off, and could see no point in our running fresh risks

before we were obliged. On the other hand, I was anxious not to show

the least disposition to break the pledge that I had given a month ago.

But it was not on my manifest disinclination that Raffles fastened.

"Necessity, my dear Bunny? Does the writer only write when the wolf is

at the door? Does the painter paint for bread alone? Must you and I

be DRIVEN to crime like Tom of Bow and Dick of Whitechapel? You pain

me, my dear chap; you needn't laugh, because you do. Art for art's

sake is a vile catchword, but I confess it appeals to me. In this case

my motives are absolutely pure, for I doubt if we shall ever be able to

dispose of such peculiar stones. But if I don't have a try for

them--after to-night--I shall never be able to hold up my head again."

His eye twinkled, but it glittered, too.

"We shall have our work cut out," was all I said.

"And do you suppose I should be keen on it if we hadn't?" cried

Raffles. "My dear fellow, I would rob St. Paul's Cathedral if I could,

but I could no more scoop a till when the shopwalker wasn't looking

than I could bag the apples out of an old woman's basket. Even that

little business last month was a sordid affair, but it was necessary,

and I think its strategy redeemed it to some extent. Now there's some

credit, and more sport, in going where they boast they're on their

guard against you. The Bank of England, for example, is the ideal

crib; but that would need half a dozen of us with years to give to the

job; and meanwhile Reuben Rosenthall is high enough game for you and

me. We know he's armed. We know how Billy Purvis can fight. It'll be

no soft thing, I grant you. But what of that, my good Bunny--what of

that? A man's reach must exceed his grasp, dear boy, or what the

dickens is a heaven for?"

"I would rather we didn't exceed ours just yet," I answered laughing,

for his spirit was irresistible, and the plan was growing upon me,

despite my qualms.

"Trust me for that," was his reply; "I'll see you through. After all I

expect to find that the difficulties are nearly all on the surface.

These fellows both drink like the devil, and that should simplify

matters considerably. But we shall see, and we must take our time.

There will probably turn out to be a dozen different ways in which the

thing might be done, and we shall have to choose between them. It will

mean watching the house for at least a week in any case; it may mean

lots of other things that will take much longer; but give me a week and

I will tell you more. That's to say, if you're really on?"

"Of course I am," I replied indignantly. "But why should I give you a

week? Why shouldn't we watch the house together?"

"Because two eyes are as good as four and take up less room. Never

hunt in couples unless you're obliged. But don't you look offended,

Bunny; there'll be plenty for you to do when the time comes, that I

promise you. You shall have your share of the fun, never fear, and a

purple diamond all to yourself--if we're lucky."

On the whole, however, this conversation left me less than lukewarm,

and I still remember the depression which came upon me when Raffles was

gone. I saw the folly of the enterprise to which I had committed

myself--the sheer, gratuitous, unnecessary folly of it. And the

paradoxes in which Raffles revelled, and the frivolous casuistry which

was nevertheless half sincere, and which his mere personality rendered

wholly plausible at the moment of utterance, appealed very little to me

when recalled in cold blood. I admired the spirit of pure mischief in

which he seemed prepared to risk his liberty and his life, but I did

not find it an infectious spirit on calm reflection. Yet the thought

of withdrawal was not to be entertained for a moment. On the contrary,

I was impatient of the delay ordained by Raffles; and, perhaps, no

small part of my secret disaffection came of his galling determination

to do without me until the last moment.

It made it no better that this was characteristic of the man and of his

attitude towards me. For a month we had been, I suppose, the thickest

thieves in all London, and yet our intimacy was curiously incomplete.

With all his charming frankness, there was in Raffles a vein of

capricious reserve which was perceptible enough to be very irritating.

He had the instinctive secretiveness of the inveterate criminal. He

would make mysteries of matters of common concern; for example, I never

knew how or where he disposed of the Bond Street jewels, on the

proceeds of which we were both still leading the outward lives of

hundreds of other young fellows about town. He was consistently

mysterious about that and other details, of which it seemed to me that

I had already earned the right to know everything. I could not but

remember how he had led me into my first felony, by means of a trick,

while yet uncertain whether he could trust me or not.

That I could no longer afford to resent, but I did resent his want of

confidence in me now. I said nothing about it, but it rankled every

day, and never more than in the week that succeeded the Rosenthall

dinner. When I met Raffles at the club he would tell me nothing; when

I went to his rooms he was out, or pretended to be.

One day he told me he was getting on well, but slowly; it was a more

ticklish game than he had thought; but when I began to ask questions he

would say no more. Then and there, in my annoyance, I took my own

decision. Since he would tell me nothing of the result of his vigils,

I determined to keep one on my own account, and that very evening found

my way to the millionaire's front gates.

The house he was occupying is, I believe, quite the largest in the St.

John's Wood district. It stands in the angle formed by two broad

thoroughfares, neither of which, as it happens, is a 'bus route, and I

doubt if many quieter spots exist within the four-mile radius. Quiet

also was the great square house, in its garden of grass-plots and

shrubs; the lights were low, the millionaire and his friends obviously

spending their evening elsewhere. The garden walls were only a few

feet high. In one there was a side door opening into a glass passage;

in the other two five-barred, grained-and-varnished gates, one at

either end of the little semi-circular drive, and both wide open. So

still was the place that I had a great mind to walk boldly in and learn

something of the premises; in fact, I was on the point of doing so,

when I heard a quick, shuffling step on the pavement behind me. I

turned round and faced the dark scowl and the dirty clenched fists of a

dilapidated tramp.

"You fool!" said he. "You utter idiot!"

"Raffles!"

"That's it," he whispered savagely; "tell all the neighborhood--give me

away at the top of your voice!"

With that he turned his back upon me, and shambled down the road,

shrugging his shoulders and muttering to himself as though I had

refused him alms. A few moments I stood astounded, indignant, at a

loss; then I followed him. His feet trailed, his knees gave, his back

was bowed, his head kept nodding; it was the gait of a man eighty years

of age. Presently he waited for me midway between two lamp-posts. As

I came up he was lighting rank tobacco, in a cutty pipe, with an

evil-smelling match, and the flame showed me the suspicion of a smile.

"You must forgive my heat, Bunny, but it really was very foolish of

you. Here am I trying every dodge--begging at the door one

night--hiding in the shrubs the next--doing every mortal thing but

stand and stare at the house as you went and did. It's a costume piece,

and in you rush in your ordinary clothes. I tell you they're on the

lookout for us night and day. It's the toughest nut I ever tackled!"

"Well," said I, "if you had told me so before I shouldn't have come.

You told me nothing."

He looked hard at me from under the broken brim of a battered billycock.

"You're right," he said at length. "I've been too close. It's become

second nature with me when I've anything on. But here's an end of it,

Bunny, so far as you're concerned. I'm going home now, and I want you

to follow me; but for heaven's sake keep your distance, and don't speak

to me again till I speak to you. There--give me a start." And he was

off again, a decrepit vagabond, with his hands in his pockets, his

elbows squared, and frayed coat-tails swinging raggedly from side to

side.

I followed him to the Finchley Road. There he took an Atlas omnibus,

and I sat some rows behind him on the top, but not far enough to escape

the pest of his vile tobacco. That he could carry his character-sketch

to such a pitch--he who would only smoke one brand of cigarette! It

was the last, least touch of the insatiable artist, and it charmed away

what mortification there still remained in me. Once more I felt the

fascination of a comrade who was forever dazzling one with a fresh and

unsuspected facet of his character.

As we neared Piccadilly I wondered what he would do. Surely he was not

going into the Albany like that? No, he took another omnibus to Sloane

Street, I sitting behind him as before. At Sloane Street we changed

again, and were presently in the long lean artery of the King's Road.

I was now all agog to know our destination, nor was I kept many more

minutes in doubt. Raffles got down. I followed. He crossed the road

and disappeared up a dark turning. I pressed after him, and was in

time to see his coat-tails as he plunged into a still darker flagged

alley to the right. He was holding himself up and stepping out like a

young man once more; also, in some subtle way, he already looked less

disreputable. But I alone was there to see him, the alley was

absolutely deserted, and desperately dark. At the further end he

opened a door with a latch-key, and it was darker yet within.

Instinctively I drew back and heard him chuckle. We could no longer see

each other.

"All right, Bunny! There's no hanky-panky this time. These are

studios, my friend, and I'm one of the lawful tenants."

Indeed, in another minute we were in a lofty room with skylight,

easels, dressing-cupboard, platform, and every other adjunct save the

signs of actual labor. The first thing I saw, as Raffles lit the gas,

was its reflection in his silk hat on the pegs beside the rest of his

normal garments.

"Looking for the works of art?" continued Raffles, lighting a cigarette

and beginning to divest himself of his rags. "I'm afraid you won't

find any, but there's the canvas I'm always going to make a start upon.

I tell them I'm looking high and low for my ideal model. I have the

stove lit on principle twice a week, and look in and leave a newspaper

and a smell of Sullivans--how good they are after shag! Meanwhile I

pay my rent and am a good tenant in every way; and it's a very useful

little pied-à-terre--there's no saying how useful it might be at a

pinch. As it is, the billy-cock comes in and the topper goes out, and

nobody takes the slightest notice of either; at this time of night the

chances are that there's not a soul in the building except ourselves."

"You never told me you went in for disguises," said I, watching him as

he cleansed the grime from his face and hands.

"No, Bunny, I've treated you very shabbily all round. There was really

no reason why I shouldn't have shown you this place a month ago, and

yet there was no point in my doing so, and circumstances are just

conceivable in which it would have suited us both for you to be in

genuine ignorance of my whereabouts. I have something to sleep on, as

you perceive, in case of need, and, of course, my name is not Raffles

in the King's Road. So you will see that one might bolt further and

fare worse."

"Meanwhile you use the place as a dressing-room?"

"It is my private pavilion," said Raffles. "Disguises? In some cases

they're half the battle, and it's always pleasant to feel that, if the

worst comes to the worst, you needn't necessarily be convicted under

your own name. Then they're indispensable in dealing with the fences.

I drive all my bargains in the tongue and raiment of Shoreditch. If I

didn't there'd be the very devil to pay in blackmail. Now, this

cupboard's full of all sorts of toggery. I tell the woman who cleans

the room that it's for my models when I find 'em. By the way, I only

hope I've got something that'll fit you, for you'll want a rig for

to-morrow night."

"To-morrow night!" I exclaimed. "Why, what do you mean to do?"

"The trick," said Raffles. "I intended writing to you as soon as I got

back to my rooms, to ask you to look me up to-morrow afternoon; then I

was going to unfold my plan of campaign, and take you straight into

action then and there. There's nothing like putting the nervous

players in first; it's the sitting with their pads on that upsets their

applecart; that was another of my reasons for being so confoundedly

close. You must try to forgive me. I couldn't help remembering how

well you played up last trip, without any time to weaken on it

beforehand. All I want is for you to be as cool and smart to-morrow

night as you were then; though, by Jove, there's no comparison between

the two cases!"

"I thought you would find it so."

"You were right. I have. Mind you, I don't say this will be the

tougher job all round; we shall probably get in without any difficulty

at all; it's the getting out again that may flummox us. That's the

worst of an irregular household!" cried Raffles, with quite a burst of

virtuous indignation. "I assure you, Bunny, I spent the whole of

Monday night in the shrubbery of the garden next door, looking over the

wall, and, if you'll believe me, somebody was about all night long! I

don't mean the Kaffirs. I don't believe they ever get to bed at

all--poor devils! No, I mean Rosenthall himself, and that pasty-faced

beast Purvis. They were up and drinking from midnight, when they came

in, to broad daylight, when I cleared out. Even then I left them sober

enough to slang each other. By the way, they very nearly came to blows

in the garden, within a few yards of me, and I heard something that

might come in useful and make Rosenthall shoot crooked at a critical

moment. You know what an I. D. B. is?"

"Illicit Diamond Buyer?"

"Exactly. Well, it seems that Rosenthall was one. He must have let it

out to Purvis in his cups. Anyhow, I heard Purvis taunting him with it,

and threatening him with the breakwater at Capetown; and I begin to

think our friends are friend and foe. But about to-morrow night:

there's nothing subtle in my plan. It's simply to get in while these

fellows are out on the loose, and to lie low till they come back, and

longer. If possible, we must doctor the whiskey. That would simplify

the whole thing, though it's not a very sporting game to play; still,

we must remember Rosenthall's revolver; we don't want him to sign his

name on US. With all those Kaffirs about, however, it's ten to one on

the whiskey, and a hundred to one against us if we go looking for it.

A brush with the heathen would spoil everything, if it did no more.

Besides, there are the ladies--"

"The deuce there are!"

"Ladies with an _I_, and the very voices for raising Cain. I fear, I

fear the clamor! It would be fatal to us. Au contraire, if we can

manage to stow ourselves away unbeknownst, half the battle will be won.

If Rosenthall turns in drunk, it's a purple diamond apiece. If he sits

up sober, it may be a bullet instead. We will hope not, Bunny; and all

the firing wouldn't be on one side; but it's on the knees of the gods."

And so we left it when we shook hands in Picadilly--not by any means as

much later as I could have wished. Raffles would not ask me to his

rooms that night. He said he made it a rule to have a long night

before playing cricket and--other games. His final word to me was

framed on the same principle.

"Mind, only one drink to-night, Bunny. Two at the outside--as you

value your life--and mine!"

I remember my abject obedience; and the endless, sleepless night it

gave me; and the roofs of the houses opposite standing out at last

against the blue-gray London dawn. I wondered whether I should ever

see another, and was very hard on myself for that little expedition

which I had made on my own wilful account.

It was between eight and nine o'clock in the evening when we took up

our position in the garden adjoining that of Reuben Rosenthall; the

house itself was shut up, thanks to the outrageous libertine next door,

who, by driving away the neighbors, had gone far towards delivering

himself into our hands. Practically secure from surprise on that side,

we could watch our house under cover of a wall just high enough to see

over, while a fair margin of shrubs in either garden afforded us

additional protection. Thus entrenched, we had stood an hour, watching

a pair of lighted bow-windows with vague shadows flitting continually

across the blinds, and listening to the drawing of corks, the clink of

glasses, and a gradual crescendo of coarse voices within. Our luck

seemed to have deserted us: the owner of the purple diamonds was dining

at home and dining at undue length. I thought it was a dinner-party.

Raffles differed; in the end he proved right. Wheels grated in the

drive, a carriage and pair stood at the steps; there was a stampede

from the dining-room, and the loud voices died away, to burst forth

presently from the porch.

Let me make our position perfectly clear. We were over the wall, at

the side of the house, but a few feet from the dining-room windows. On

our right, one angle of the building cut the back lawn in two

diagonally; on our left, another angle just permitted us to see the

jutting steps and the waiting carriage. We saw Rosenthall come

out--saw the glimmer of his diamonds before anything. Then came the

pugilist; then a lady with a head of hair like a bath sponge; then

another, and the party was complete.

Raffles ducked and pulled me down in great excitement.

"The ladies are going with them," he whispered. "This is great!"

"That's better still."

"The Gardenia!" the millionaire had bawled.

"And that's best of all," said Raffles, standing upright as hoofs and

wheels crunched through the gates and rattled off at a fine speed.

"Now what?" I whispered, trembling with excitement.

"They'll be clearing away. Yes, here come their shadows. The

drawing-room windows open on the lawn. Bunny, it's the psychological

moment. Where's that mask?"

I produced it with a hand whose trembling I tried in vain to still, and

could have died for Raffles when he made no comment on what he could

not fail to notice. His own hands were firm and cool as he adjusted my

mask for me, and then his own.

"By Jove, old boy," he whispered cheerily, "you look about the greatest

ruffian I ever saw! These masks alone will down a nigger, if we meet

one. But I'm glad I remembered to tell you not to shave. You'll pass

for Whitechapel if the worst comes to the worst and you don't forget to

talk the lingo. Better sulk like a mule if you're not sure of it, and

leave the dialogue to me; but, please our stars, there will be no need.

Now, are you ready?"

"Quite."

"Got your gag?"

"Yes."

"Shooter?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me."

In an instant we were over the wall, in another on the lawn behind the

house. There was no moon. The very stars in their courses had veiled

themselves for our benefit. I crept at my leader's heels to some

French windows opening upon a shallow veranda. He pushed. They

yielded.

"Luck again," he whispered; "nothing BUT luck! Now for a light."

And the light came!

A good score of electric burners glowed red for the fraction of a

second, then rained merciless white beams into our blinded eyes. When

we found our sight four revolvers covered us, and between two of them

the colossal frame of Reuben Rosenthall shook with a wheezy laughter

from head to foot.

"Good-evening, boys," he hiccoughed. "Glad to see ye at last. Shift

foot or finger, you on the left, though, and you're a dead boy. I mean

you, you greaser!" he roared out at Raffles. "I know you. I've been

waitin' for you. I've been WATCHIN' you all this week! Plucky smart

you thought yerself, didn't you? One day beggin', next time shammin'

tight, and next one o' them old pals from Kimberley what never come

when I'm in. But you left the same tracks every day, you buggins, an'

the same tracks every night, all round the blessed premises."

"All right, guv'nor," drawled Raffles; "don't excite. It's a fair cop.

We don't sweat to know 'ow you brung it orf. On'y don't you go for to

shoot, 'cos we 'int awmed, s'help me Gord!"

"Ah, you're a knowin' one," said Rosenthall, fingering his triggers.

"But you've struck a knowin'er."

"Ho, yuss, we know all abaht thet! Set a thief to ketch a thief--ho,

yuss."

My eyes had torn themselves from the round black muzzles, from the

accursed diamonds that had been our snare, the pasty pig-face of the

over-fed pugilist, and the flaming cheeks and hook nose of Rosenthall

himself. I was looking beyond them at the doorway filled with

quivering silk and plush, black faces, white eyeballs, woolly pates.

But a sudden silence recalled my attention to the millionaire. And

only his nose retained its color.

"What d'ye mean?" he whispered with a hoarse oath. "Spit it out, or,

by Christmas, I'll drill you!"

"Whort price thet brikewater?" drawled Raffles coolly.

"Eh?"

Rosenthall's revolvers were describing widening orbits.

"Whort price thet brikewater--old _I.D.B._?"

"Where in hell did you get hold o' that?" asked Rosenthall, with a

rattle in his thick neck, meant for mirth.

"You may well arst," says Raffles. "It's all over the plice w'ere _I_

come from."

"Who can have spread such rot?"

"I dunno," says Raffles; "arst the gen'leman on yer left; p'r'aps 'E

knows."

The gentleman on his left had turned livid with emotion. Guilty

conscience never declared itself in plainer terms. For a moment his

small eyes bulged like currants in the suet of his face; the next, he

had pocketed his pistols on a professional instinct, and was upon us

with his fists.

"Out o' the light--out o' the light!" yelled Rosenthall in a frenzy.

He was too late. No sooner had the burly pugilist obstructed his fire

than Raffles was through the window at a bound; while I, for standing

still and saying nothing, was scientifically felled to the floor.

I cannot have been many moments without my senses. When I recovered

them there was a great to-do in the garden, but I had the drawing-room

to myself. I sat up. Rosenthall and Purvis were rushing about

outside, cursing the Kaffirs and nagging at each other.

"Over THAT wall, I tell yer!"

"I tell you it was this one. Can't you whistle for the police?"

"Police be damned! I've had enough of the blessed police."

"Then we'd better get back and make sure of the other rotter."

"Oh, make sure o' yer skin. That's what you'd better do. Jala, you

black hog, if I catch YOU skulkin'...."

I never heard the threat. I was creeping from the drawing-room on my

hands and knees, my own revolver swinging by its steel ring from my

teeth.

For an instant I thought that the hall also was deserted. I was wrong,

and I crept upon a Kaffir on all fours. Poor devil, I could not bring

myself to deal him a base blow, but I threatened him most hideously

with my revolver, and left the white teeth chattering in his black head

as I took the stairs three at a time. Why I went upstairs in that

decisive fashion, as though it were my only course, I cannot explain.

But garden and ground floor seemed alive with men, and I might have

done worse.

I turned into the first room I came to. It was a bedroom--empty,

though lit up; and never shall I forget how I started as I entered, on

encountering the awful villain that was myself at full length in a

pier-glass! Masked, armed, and ragged, I was indeed fit carrion for a

bullet or the hangman, and to one or the other I made up my mind.

Nevertheless, I hid myself in the wardrobe behind the mirror; and there

I stood shivering and cursing my fate, my folly, and Raffles most of

all--Raffles first and last--for I daresay half an hour. Then the

wardrobe door was flung suddenly open; they had stolen into the room

without a sound; and I was hauled downstairs, an ignominious captive.

Gross scenes followed in the hall; the ladies were now upon the stage,

and at sight of the desperate criminal they screamed with one accord.

In truth I must have given them fair cause, though my mask was now torn

away and hid nothing but my left ear. Rosenthall answered their

shrieks with a roar for silence; the woman with the bath-sponge hair

swore at him shrilly in return; the place became a Babel impossible to

describe. I remember wondering how long it would be before the police

appeared. Purvis and the ladies were for calling them in and giving me

in charge without delay. Rosenthall would not hear of it. He swore

that he would shoot man or woman who left his sight. He had had enough

of the police. He was not going to have them coming there to spoil

sport; he was going to deal with me in his own way. With that he

dragged me from all other hands, flung me against a door, and sent a

bullet crashing through the wood within an inch of my ear.

"You drunken fool! It'll be murder!" shouted Purvis, getting in the

way a second time.

"Wha' do I care? He's armed, isn't he? I shot him in self-defence.

It'll be a warning to others. Will you stand aside, or d'ye want it

yourself?"

"You're drunk," said Purvis, still between us. "I saw you take a neat

tumblerful since you come in, and it's made you drunk as a fool. Pull

yourself together, old man. You ain't a-going to do what you'll be

sorry for."

"Then I won't shoot at him, I'll only shoot roun' an' roun' the beggar.

You're quite right, ole feller. Wouldn't hurt him. Great mishtake.

Roun' an' roun'. There--like that!"

His freckled paw shot up over Purvis's shoulder, mauve lightning came

from his ring, a red flash from his revolver, and shrieks from the

women as the reverberations died away. Some splinters lodged in my

hair.

Next instant the prize-fighter disarmed him; and I was safe from the

devil, but finally doomed to the deep sea. A policeman was in our

midst. He had entered through the drawing-room window; he was an

officer of few words and creditable promptitude. In a twinkling he had

the handcuffs on my wrists, while the pugilist explained the situation,

and his patron reviled the force and its representative with impotent

malignity. A fine watch they kept; a lot of good they did; coming in

when all was over and the whole household might have been murdered in

their sleep. The officer only deigned to notice him as he marched me

off.

"We know all about YOU, sir," said he contemptuously, and he refused

the sovereign Purvis proffered. "You will be seeing me again, sir, at

Marylebone."

"Shall I come now?"

"As you please, sir. I rather think the other gentleman requires you

more, and I don't fancy this young man means to give much trouble."

"Oh, I'm coming quietly," I said.

And I went.

In silence we traversed perhaps a hundred yards. It must have been

midnight. We did not meet a soul. At last I whispered:

"How on earth did you manage it?"

"Purely by luck," said Raffles. "I had the luck to get clear away

through knowing every brick of those back-garden walls, and the double

luck to have these togs with the rest over at Chelsea. The helmet is

one of a collection I made up at Oxford; here it goes over this wall,

and we'd better carry the coat and belt before we meet a real officer.

I got them once for a fancy ball--ostensibly--and thereby hangs a yarn.

I always thought they might come in useful a second time. My chief

crux to-night was getting rid of the hansom that brought me back. I

sent him off to Scotland Yard with ten bob and a special message to

good old Mackenzie. The whole detective department will be at

Rosenthall's in about half an hour. Of course, I speculated on our

gentleman's hatred of the police--another huge slice of luck. If you'd

got away, well and good; if not, I felt he was the man to play with his

mouse as long as possible. Yes, Bunny, it's been more of a costume

piece than I intended, and we've come out of it with a good deal less

credit. But, by Jove, we're jolly lucky to have come out of it at all!"