Part 27 (1/2)

Though not unprepared for some such ultimatum, I must own I heard it with dismay. On all sorts of grounds, some of them as unworthy as itself, this last demand failed to meet with my approval; and I determined to expostulate with Raffles before it was too late. Meanwhile I hid my feelings as best I could, and admired the spirit with which Dan Levy expressed his.

”I'll see you d.a.m.ned first!” he cried. ”It's blackmail!”

”Guineas,” said Raffles, ”for contempt of court.”

And more to my surprise than ever, not a little indeed to my secret disappointment, our captive speedily collapsed again, whimpering, moaning, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth, and clutching at the Red Ensign, with closed eyes and distorted face, so much as though he were about to have a fit that I caught up the half-bottle of champagne, and began removing the wire at a nod from Raffles.

”Don't cut the string just yet,” he added, however, with an eye on Levy-who instantly opened his.

”I'll pay up!” he whispered, feebly yet eagerly. ”It serves me right. I promise I'll pay up!”

”Good!” said Raffles. ”Here's your own cheque-book from your own room, and here's my fountain pen.”

”You won't take my word?”

”It's quite enough to have to take your cheque; it should have been hard cash.”

”So it shall be, Raffles, if you come up with me to my office!”

”I dare say.”

”To my bank, then!”

”I prefer to go alone. You will kindly make it an open cheque payable to bearer.”

The fountain pen was poised over the chequebook, but only because I had placed it in Levy's fingers, and was holding the cheque-book under them.

”And what if I refuse?” he demanded, with a last flash of his native spirit.

”We shall say good-bye, and give you until to-night.”

”All day to call for help in!” muttered Levy, all but to himself.

”Do you happen to know where you are?” Raffles asked him.

”No, but I can find out.”

”If you knew already you would also know that you might call till you were black in the face; but to keep you in blissful ignorance you will be bound a good deal more securely than you are at present. And to spare your poor voice you will also be very thoroughly gagged.”

Levy took remarkably little notice of either threat or gibe.

”And if I give in and sign?” said he, after a pause.

”You will remain exactly as you are, with one of us to keep you company, while the other goes up to town to cash your cheque. You can't expect me to give you a chance of stopping it, you know.”

This, again, struck me as a hard condition, if only prudent when one came to think of it from our point of view; still, it took even me by surprise, and I expected Levy to fling away the pen in disgust. He balanced it, however, as though also weighing the two alternatives very carefully in his mind, and during his deliberations his bloodshot eyes wandered from Raffles to me and back again to Raffles. In a word, the latest prospect appeared to disturb Mr. Levy less than, for obvious reasons, it did me. Certainly for him it was the lesser of the two evils, and as such he seemed to accept it when he finally wrote out the cheque for fifteen hundred guineas (Raffles insisting on these), and signed it firmly before sinking back as though exhausted by the effort.

Raffles was as good as his word about the champagne now: dram by dram he poured the whole pint into the cup belonging to his flask, and dram by dram our prisoner tossed it off, but with closed eyes, like a delirious invalid, and towards the end, with a head so heavy that Raffles had to raise it from the rolled flag, though foul talons still came twitching out for more. It was an unlovely process, I will confess; but what was a pint, as Raffles said? At any rate I could bear him out that these potations had not been hocussed, and Raffles whispered the same for the flask which he handed me with Levy's revolver at the head of the wooden stairs.

”I'm coming down,” said I, ”for a word with you in the room below.”

Raffles looked at me with open eyes, then more narrowly at the red lids of Levy, and finally at his own watch.