Liugong Forklift CPCD30 CPCD35

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But it is pretty certain to be a lively night for him and his pals—and a
vulnerable one for the best bedroom!"
"Capital!" said Raffles, throwing coits of smoke between his smiles.
"Still, if it's a dinner-party, the hostess won't leave her jewels
upstairs. She'll wear them, my boy."
"Not all of them, Raffles; she has far too many for that. Besides, it
isn't an ordinary dinner-party; they say Mrs. Guillemard is generally
the only lady there, and that she's quite charming in herself. Now,
no charming woman would clap on all sail in jewels for a roomful of
fox-hunters."
"It depends what jewels she has."
"Well, she might wear her rope of pearls."
"I should have said so."
"And, of course, her rings."
"Exactly, Bunny."
"But not necessarily her diamond tiara——"
"Has she got one?"
"——and certainly not her emerald and diamond necklace on top of
all!"
Raffles snatched the Sullivan from his lips, and his eyes burned like
its end.
"Bunny, do you mean to tell me there are all these things?"
"Of course I do," said I. "They are rich people, and he's not such a
brute as to spend everything on his stable. Her jewels are as much
the talk as his hunters. My friends told me all about both the other
day when I was down making inquiries. They thought my curiosity
as natural as my wish for a few snapshots of the old place. In their
opinion the emerald necklace alone must be worth thousands of
pounds."
Raffles rubbed his hands in playful pantomime.
"I only hope you didn't ask too many questions, Bunny! But if your
friends are such old friends, you will never enter their heads when
they hear what has happened, unless you are seen down there on
the night, which might be fatal. Your approach will require some
thought: if you like I can work out the shot for you. I shall go down
independently, and the best thing may be to meet outside the house
itself on the night of nights. But from that moment I am in your
hands."
And on these refreshing lines our plan of campaign was gradually
developed and elaborated into that finished study on which Raffles
would rely like any artist of the footlights. None were more capable
than he of coping with the occasion as it rose, of rising himself with
the emergency of the moment, of snatching a victory from the very
dust of defeat. Yet, for choice, every detail was premeditated, and
an alternative expedient at each finger's end for as many bare and
awful possibilities. In this case, however, the finished study stopped
short at the garden gate or wall; there I was to assume command;
and though Raffles carried the actual tools of trade of which he
alone was master, it was on the understanding that for once I should
control and direct their use.
I had gone down in evening-clothes by an evening train, but had
carefully overshot old landmarks, and alighted at a small station
some miles south of the one where I was still remembered. This
committed me to a solitary and somewhat lengthy tramp; but the
night was mild and starry, and I marched into it with a high
stomach; for this was to be no costume crime, and yet I should have
Raffles at my elbow all the night. Long before I reached my
destination, indeed, he stood in wait for me on the white highway,
and we finished with linked arms.
"I came down early," said Raffles, "and had a look at the races. I
always prefer to measure my man, Bunny; and you needn't sit in the
front row of the stalls to take stock of your friend Guillemard. No
wonder he doesn't ride his own horses! The steeple-chaser isn't
foaled that would carry him round that course. But he's a fine
monument of a man, and he takes his troubles in a way that makes
me blush to add to them."
"Did he lose a horse?" I inquired cheerfully.
"No, Bunny, but he didn't win a race! His horses were by chalks the
best there, and his pals rode them like the foul fiend, but with the
worst of luck every time. Not that you'd think it, from the row
they're making. I've been listening to them from the road—you
always did say the house stood too near it."
"Then you didn't go in?"
"When it's your show? You should know me better. Not a foot would
I set on the premises behind your back. But here they are, so
perhaps you'll lead the way."
And I led it without a moment's hesitation, through the
unpretentious six-barred gate into the long but shallow crescent of
the drive. There were two such gates, one at each end of the drive,
but no lodge at either, and not a light nearer than those of the
house. The shape and altitude of the lighted windows, the whisper
of the laurels on either hand, the very feel of the gravel underfoot,
were at once familiar to my senses as the sweet, relaxing,
immemorial air that one drank deeper at every breath. Our stealthy
advance was to me like stealing back into one's childhood; and yet I
could conduct it without compunction. I was too excited to feel
immediate remorse, albeit not too lost in excitement to know that
remorse for every step that I was taking would be my portion soon
enough. I mean every word that I have written of my peculiar
shame for this night's work. And it was all to come over me before
the night was out. But in the garden I never felt it once.
The dining-room windows blazed in the side of the house facing the
road. That was an objection to peeping through the venetian blinds,
as we nevertheless did, at our peril of observation from the road.
Raffles would never have led me into danger so gratuitous and
unnecessary, but he followed me into it without a word. I can only
plead that we both had our reward. There was a sufficient chink in
the obsolete venetians, and through it we saw every inch of the
picturesque board. Mrs. Guillemard was still in her place, but she
really was the only lady, and dressed as quietly as I had prophesied;
round her neck was her rope of pearls, but not the glimmer of an
emerald nor the glint of a diamond, nor yet the flashing constellation
of a tiara in her hair. I gripped Raffles in token of my triumph, and
he nodded as he scanned the overwhelming majority of flushed fox-
hunters. With the exception of one stripling, evidently the son of the
house, they were in evening pink to a man; and as I say, their faces
matched their coats. An enormous fellow, with a great red face and
cropped moustache, occupied my poor father's place; he it was who
had replaced our fruitful vineries with his stinking stables; but I am
bound to own he looked a genial clod, as he sat in his fat and
listened to the young bloods boasting of their prowess, or
elaborately explaining their mishaps. And for a minute we listened
also, before I remembered my responsibilities, and led Raffles round
to the back of the house.
There never was an easier house to enter. I used to feel that keenly
as a boy, when, by a prophetic irony, burglars were my bugbear, and
I looked under my bed every night in life. The bow-windows on the
ground floor finished in inane balconies to the first-floor windows.
These balconies had ornamental iron railings, to which a less
ingenious rope-ladder than ours could have been hitched with equal
ease. Raffles had brought it with him, round his waist, and he
carried the telescopic stick for fixing it in place. The one was
unwound, and the other put together, in a secluded corner of the
red-brick walls, where of old I had played my own game of squash-
rackets in the holidays. I made further investigations in the starlight,
and even found a trace of my original white line along the red wall.
But it was not until we had effected our entry through the room
which had been my very own, and made our parlous way across the
lighted landing, to the best bedroom of those days and these, that I
really felt myself a worm. Twin brass bedsteads occupied the site of
the old four-poster from which I had first beheld the light. The doors
were the same; my childish hands had grasped these very handles.
And there was Raffles securing the landing door with wedge and
gimlet, the very second after softly closing it behind us.
"The other leads into the dressing-room, of course? Then you might
be fixing the outer dressing-room door," he whispered at his work,
"but not the middle one Bunny, unless you want to. The stuff will be
in there, you see, if it isn't in here."
My door was done in a moment, being fitted with a powerful bolt;
but now an aching conscience made me busier than I need have
been. I had raised the rope-ladder after us into my own old room,
and while Raffles wedged his door I lowered the ladder from one of
the best bedroom windows, in order to prepare that way of escape
which was a fundamental feature of his own strategy. I meant to
show Raffles that I had not followed in his train for nothing. But I
left it to him to unearth the jewels. I had begun by turning up the
gas; there appeared to be no possible risk in that; and Raffles went
to work with a will in the excellent light. There were some good
pieces in the room, including an ancient tallboy in fruity mahogany,
every drawer of which was turned out on the bed without avail. A
few of the drawers had locks to pick, yet not one trifle to our taste
within. The situation became serious as the minutes flew. We had
left the party at its sweets; the solitary lady might be free to roam
her house at any minute. In the end we turned our attention to the
dressing-room. And no sooner did Raffles behold the bolted door
than up went his hands.
"A bathroom bolt," he cried below his breath, "and no bath in the
room! Why didn't you tell me, Bunny? A bolt like that speaks
volumes; there's none on the bedroom door, remember, and this
one's worthy of a strong room! What if it is their strong room,
Bunny! Oh, Bunny, what if this is their safe!"
Raffles had dropped upon his knees before a carved oak chest of
indisputable antiquity. Its panels were delightfully irregular, its angles
faultlessly faulty, its one modern defilement a strong lock to the lid.
Raffles was smiling as he produced his jimmy. R—r—r—rip went lock
or lid in another ten seconds—I was not there to see which. I had
wandered back into the bedroom in a paroxysm of excitement and
suspense. I must keep busy as well as Raffles, and it was not too
soon to see whether the rope-ladder was all right. In another
minute....
I stood frozen to the floor. I had hooked the ladder beautifully to the
inner sill of wood, and had also let down the extended rod for the
more expeditious removal of both on our return to terra firma.
Conceive my cold horror on arriving at the open window just in time
to see the last of hooks and bending rod, as they floated out of sight
and reach into the outer darkness of the night, removed by some
silent and invisible hand below!
"Raffles—Raffles—they've spotted us and moved the ladder this very
instant!"
So I panted as I rushed on tiptoe to the dressing-room. Raffles had
the working end of his jimmy under the lid of a leathern jewel case.
It flew open at the vicious twist of his wrist that preceded his reply.
"Did you let them see that you'd spotted that?"
"No."
"Good! Pocket some of these cases—no time to open them. Which
door's nearest the backstairs?"
"The other."
"Come on then!"
"No, no, I'll lead the way. I know every inch of it."
And, as I leaned against the bedroom door, handle in hand, while
Raffles stooped to unscrew the gimlet and withdraw the wedge, I hit
upon the ideal port in the storm that was evidently about to burst on
our devoted heads. It was the last place in which they would look for
a couple of expert cracksmen with no previous knowledge of the
house. If only we could gain my haven unobserved, there we might
lie in unsuspected hiding, and by the hour, if not for days and nights.
Alas for that sanguine dream! The wedge was out, and Raffles on
his feet behind me. I opened the door, and for a second the pair of
us stood upon the threshold.
Creeping up the stairs before us, each on the tip of his silken toes,
was a serried file of pink barbarians, redder in the face than
anywhere else, and armed with crops carried by the wrong end. The
monumental person with the short moustache led the advance. The
fool stood still upon the top step to let out the loudest and cheeriest
view-holloa that ever smote my ears.
It cost him more than he may know until I tell him. There was the
wide part of the landing between us; we had just that much start
along the narrow part, with the walls and doors upon our left, the
banisters on our right, and the baize door at the end. But if the
great Guillemard had not stopped to live up to his sporting
reputation, he would assuredly have laid one or other of us by the
heels, and either would have been tantamount to both. As I gave
Raffles a headlong lead to the baize door, I glanced down the great
well of stairs, and up came the daft yells of these sporting oafs:
"Gone away—gone away!"
"Yoick—yoick—yoick!"
"Yon-der they go!"
And gone I had, through the baize door to the back landing, with
Raffles at my heels. I held the swing door for him, and heard him
bang it in the face of the spluttering and blustering master of the
house. Other feet were already in the lower flight of the backstairs;
but the upper flight was the one for me, and in an instant we were
racing along the upper corridor with the chuckle-headed pack at our
heels. Here it was all but dark—they were the servants' bedrooms
that we were passing now—but I knew what I was doing. Round the
last corner to the right, through the first door to the left and we
were in the room underneath the tower. In our time a long step-
ladder had led to the tower itself. I rushed in the dark to the old
corner. Thank God, the ladder was there still! It leaped under us as
we rushed aloft like one quadruped. The breakneck trap-door was
still protected by a curved brass stanchion; this I grasped with one
hand, and then Raffles with the other as I felt my feet firm upon the
tower floor. In he sprawled after me, and down went the trap-door
with a bang upon the leading hound.
 Down went the trap-door with a bang.

I hoped to feel his dead-weight shake the house, as he crashed

upon the floor below; but the fellow must have ducked, and no
crash came. Meanwhile not a word passed between Raffles and me;
he had followed me, as I had led him, without waste of breath upon
a single syllable. But the merry lot below were still yelling and
bellowing in full cry.
"Gone to ground!" screamed one.
"Where's the terrier?" screeched another.
But their host of the mighty girth—a man like a soda-water bottle,
from my one glimpse of him on his feet—seemed sobered rather
than stunned by the crack on that head of his. We heard his fine
voice no more, but we could feel him straining every thew against
the trap-door upon which Raffles and I stood side by side. At least I
thought Raffles was standing, until he asked me to strike a light,
when I found him on his knees instead of on his feet, busy screwing
down the trap-door with his gimlet. He carried three or four gimlets
for wedging doors, and he drove them all in to the handle, while I
pulled at the stanchion and pushed with my feet.
But the upward pressure ceased before our efforts. We heard the
ladder creak again under a ponderous and slow descent; and we
stood upright in the dim flicker of a candle-end that I had lit and left
burning on the floor. Raffles glanced at the four small windows in
turn and then at me.
"Is there any way out at all?" he whispered, as no other being would
or could have whispered to the man who had led him into such a
trap. "We've no rope-ladder, you know."
"Thanks to me," I groaned. "The whole thing's my fault!"
"Nonsense, Bunny; there was no other way to run. But what about
these windows?"
His magnanimity took me by the throat; without a word I led him to
the one window looking inward upon sloping slates and level leads.
Often as a boy I had clambered over them, for the fearful fun of
risking life and limb, or the fascination of peering through the great
square skylight, down the well of the house into the hall below.
There were, however, several smaller skylights, for the benefit of the
top floor, through any one of which I thought we might have made a
dash. But at a glance I saw we were too late: one of these skylights
became a brilliant square before our eyes; opened, and admitted a
flushed face on flaming shoulders.
"I'll give them a fright!" said Raffles through his teeth. In an instant
he had plucked out his revolver, smashed the window with its butt,
and the slates with a bullet not a yard from the protruding head.
And that, I believe, was the only shot that Raffles ever fired in his
whole career as a midnight marauder.
"You didn't hit him?" I gasped, as the head disappeared, and we
heard a crash in the corridor.
"Of course I didn't, Bunny," he replied, backing into the tower; "but
no one will believe I didn't mean to, and it'll stick on ten years if
we're caught. That's nothing, if it gives us an extra five minutes now,
while they hold a council of war. Is that a working flag-staff
overhead?"
"It used to be."
"Then there'll be halliards."
"They were as thin as clothes-lines."
"And they're sure to be rotten, and we should be seen cutting them
down. No, Bunny, that won't do. Wait a bit. Is there a lightning
conductor?"
"There was."
I opened one of the side windows and reached out as far as I could.
"You'll be seen from that skylight!" cried Raffles in a warning
undertone.
"No, I won't. I can't see it myself. But here's the lightning-conductor,
where it always was."
"How thick," asked Raffles, as I drew in and rejoined him.
"Rather thicker than a lead-pencil."
"They sometimes bear you," said Raffles, slipping on a pair of white
kid gloves, and stuffing his handkerchief into the palm of one. "The
difficulty is to keep a grip; but I've been up and down them before
to-night. And it's our only chance. I'll go first, Bunny: you watch me,
and do exactly as I do if I get down all right."
"But if you don't!"
"If I don't," whispered Raffles, as he wormed through the window
feet foremost, "I'm afraid you'll have to face the music where you
are, and I shall have the best of it down in Acheron!"
And he slid out of reach without another word, leaving me to
shudder alike at his levity and his peril; nor could I follow him very
far by the wan light of the April stars; but I saw his forearms resting
a moment in the spout that ran around the tower, between bricks
and slates, on the level of the floor; and I had another dim glimpse
of him lower still, on the eaves over the very room that we had
ransacked. Thence the conductor ran straight to earth in an angle of
the facade. And since it had borne him thus far without mishap, I
felt that Raffles was as good as down. But I had neither his muscles
nor his nerves, and my head swam as I mounted to the window and
prepared to creep out backward in my turn.
So it was that at the last moment I had my first unobstructed view
of the little old tower of other days. Raffles was out of the way; the
bit of candle was still burning on the floor, and in its dim light the
familiar haunt was cruelly like itself of innocent memory. A lesser
ladder still ascended to a tinier trap-door in the apex of the tower;
the fixed seats looked to me to be wearing their old, old coat of
grained varnish; nay the varnish had its ancient smell, and the very
vanes outside creaked their message to my ears. I remembered
whole days that I had spent, whole books that I had read, here in
this favorite fastness of my boyhood. The dirty little place, with the
dormer window in each of its four sloping sides, became a gallery
hung with poignant pictures of the past. And here was I leaving it
with my life in my hands and my pockets full of stolen jewels! A
superstition seized me. Suppose the conductor came down with me
... suppose I slipped ... and was picked up dead, with the proceeds
of my shameful crime upon me, under the very windows

... where the sun

Came peeping in at dawn....

I hardly remember what I did or left undone. I only know that

nothing broke, that somehow I kept my hold, and that in the end
the wire ran red-hot through my palms so that both were torn and
bleeding when I stood panting beside Raffles in the flower-beds.
There was no time for thinking then. Already there was a fresh
commotion in-doors; the tidal wave of excitement which had swept
all before it to the upper regions was subsiding in as swift a rush
down-stairs; and I raced after Raffles along the edge of the drive
without daring to look behind.
We came out by the opposite gate to that by which we had stolen
in. Sharp to the right ran the private lane behind the stables and
sharp to the right dashed Raffles, instead of straight along the open
road. It was not the course I should have chosen, but I followed
Raffles without a murmur, only too thankful that he had assumed the
lead at last. Already the stables were lit up like a chandelier; there
was a staccato rattle of horse-shoes in the stable yard, and the great
gates were opening as we skimmed past in the nick of time. In
another minute we were skulking in the shadow of the kitchen-
garden wall while the high-road rang with the dying tattoo of
galloping hoofs.
"That's for the police," said Raffles, waiting for me. "But the fun's
only beginning in the stables. Hear the uproar, and see the lights! In
another minute they'll be turning out the hunters for the last run of
the season!"
"We mustn't give them one, Raffles!"
"Of course we mustn't; but that means stopping where we are."
"We can't do that!"
"If they're wise they'll send a man to every railway station within ten
miles and draw every cover inside the radius. I can only think of one
that's not likely to occur to them."
"What's that?"
"The other side of this wall. How big is the garden, Bunny?"
"Six or seven acres."
"Well, you must take me to another of your old haunts, where we
can lie low till morning."
"And then?"
"Sufficient for the night, Bunny! The first thing is to find a burrow.
What are those trees at the end of this lane?"
"St. Leonard's Forest."
"Magnificent! They'll scour every inch of that before they come back
to their own garden. Come, Bunny, give me a leg up, and I'll pull you
after me in two ticks!"
There was indeed nothing better to be done; and, much as I loathed
and dreaded entering the place again, I had already thought of a
second sanctuary of old days, which might as well be put to the
base uses of this disgraceful night. In a far corner of the garden,
over a hundred yards from the house, a little ornamental lake had
been dug within my own memory; its shores were shelving lawn and
steep banks of rhododendrons; and among the rhododendrons
nestled a tiny boat-house which had been my childish joy. It was half
a dock for the dingy in which one plowed these miniature waters
and half a bathing-box for those who preferred their morning tub
among the goldfish. I could not think of a safer asylum than this, if
we must spend the night upon the premises; and Raffles agreed
with me when I had led him by sheltering shrubbery and perilous
lawn to the diminutive châlet between the rhododendrons and the
water.
But what a night it was! The little bathing-box had two doors, one to
the water, the other to the path. To hear all that could be heard, it
was necessary to keep both doors open, and quite imperative not to
talk. The damp night air of April filled the place, and crept through
our evening-clothes and light overcoats into the very marrow; the
mental torture of the situation was renewed and multiplied in my
brain; and all the time one's ears were pricked for footsteps on the
path between the rhododendrons. The only sounds we could at first
identify came one and all from the stables. Yet there the excitement
subsided sooner than we had expected, and it was Raffles himself
who breathed a doubt as to whether they were turning out the
hunters after all. On the other hand, we heard wheels in the drive
not long after midnight; and Raffles, who was beginning to scout
among the shrubberies, stole back to tell me that the guests were
departing, and being sped, with an unimpaired conviviality which he
failed to understand. I said I could not understand it either, but
suggested the general influence of liquor, and expressed my envy of
their state. I had drawn my knees up to my chin, on the bench
where one used to dry one's self after bathing, and there I sat in a
seeming stolidity at utter variance with my inward temper. I heard
Raffles creep forth again and I let him go without a word. I never
doubted that he would be back again in a minute, and so let many
minutes elapse before I realized his continued absence, and finally
crept out myself to look for him.
Even then I only supposed that he had posted himself outside in
some more commanding position. I took a catlike stride and
breathed his name. There was no answer. I ventured further, till I
could overlook the lawns: they lay like clean slates in the starlight:
there was no sign of living thing nearer than the house, which was
still lit up, but quiet enough now. Was it a cunning and deliberate
quiet assumed as a snare? Had they caught Raffles, and were they
waiting for me? I returned to the boat-house in an agony of fear and
indignation. It was fear for the long hours that I sat there waiting for
him; it was indignation when at last I heard his stealthy step upon
the gravel. I would not go out to meet him. I sat where I was while
the stealthy step came nearer, nearer; and there I was sitting when
the door opened, and a huge man in riding-clothes stood before me
in the steely dawn.
I leaped to my feet, and the huge man clapped me playfully on the
shoulder.
"Sorry I've been so long, Bunny, but we should never have got away
as we were; this riding-suit makes a new man of me, on top of my
own, and here's a youth's kit that should do you down to the
ground."
"So you broke into the house again!"
"I was obliged to, Bunny; but I had to watch the lights out one by
one, and give them a good hour after that. I went through that
dressing-room at my leisure this time; the only difficulty was to spot
the son's quarters at the back of the house; but I overcame it, as
you see, in the end. I only hope they'll fit, Bunny. Give me your
patent leathers, and I'll fill them with stones and sink them 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 boat-house. 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
t 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 in life, but gave point
and zest to innumerable spins across Richmond Park, to the nearest
paper shop; and it was from such an expedition that I returned with
inflammatory matter unconnected with the war. The magazine was
one of those that are read (and sold) by the million; the article was
rudely illustrated on every other page. Its subject was the so-called
Black Museum at Scotland Yard; and from the catchpenny text we
first learned that the gruesome show was now enriched by a special
and elaborate exhibit known as the Raffles Relics.
"Bunny," said Raffles, "this is fame at last! It is no longer notoriety; it
lifts one out of the ruck of robbers into the society of the big brass
gods, whose little delinquencies are written in water by the finger of
time. The Napoleon Relics we know, the Nelson Relics we've heard
about, and here are mine!"
"Which I wish to goodness we could see," I added, longingly. Next
moment I was sorry I had spoken. Raffles was looking at me across
the magazine. There was a smile on his lips that I knew too well, a
light in his eyes that I had kindled.