Part 5 (1/2)

Mechanically I did as I was told. There was no time for thought, still less for remonstrance or reproach, though my surprise must have been even more complete than that of the constable before Raffles knocked the sense out of him. Even in my utter bewilderment, however, the instinctive caution of the real criminal did not desert me. I ran to the door, but I sauntered through it, to plant myself before a Pompeiian fresco in the corridor; and there were the two attendants still gossiping outside the further door; nor did they hear the dull crash which I heard even as I watched them out of the corner of each eye.

It was hot weather, as I have said, but the perspiration on my body seemed already to have turned into a skin of ice. Then I caught the faint reflection of my own face in the casing of the fresco, and it frightened me into some semblance of myself as Raffles joined me with his hands in his pockets. But my fear and indignation were redoubled at the sight of him, when a single glance convinced me that his pockets were as empty as his hands, and his mad outrage the most wanton and reckless of his whole career.

”Ah, very interesting, very interesting, but nothing to what they have in the museum at Naples or in Pompeii itself. You must go there some day, Bunny. I've a good mind to take you myself. Meanwhile-slow march! The beggar hasn't moved an eyelid. We may swing for him if you show indecent haste!”

”We!” I whispered. ”We!”

And my knees knocked together as we came up to the chatting attendants. But Raffles must needs interrupt them to ask the way to the Prehistoric Saloon.

”At the top of the stairs.”

”Thank you. Then we'll work round that way to the Egyptian part.”

And we left them resuming their providential chat.

”I believe you're mad,” I said bitterly as we went.

”I believe I was,” admitted Raffles; ”but I'm not now, and I'll see you through. A hundred and thirty-nine yards, wasn't it? Then it can't be more than a hundred and twenty now-not as much. Steady, Bunny, for G.o.d's sake. It's SLOW march-for our lives.”

There was this much management. The rest was our colossal luck. A hansom was being paid off at the foot of the steps outside, and in we jumped, Raffles shouting ”Charing Cross!” for all Bloomsbury to hear.

We had turned into Bloomsbury Street without exchanging a syllable when he struck the trap-door with his fist.

”Where the devil are you driving us?”

”Charing Cross, sir.”

”I said King's Cross! Round you spin, and drive like blazes, or we miss our train! There's one to York at 10:35,” added Raffles as the trap-door slammed; ”we'll book there, Bunny, and then we'll slope through the subway to the Metropolitan, and so to ground via Baker Street and Earl's Court.”

And actually in half an hour he was seated once more in the hired carrying chair, while the porter and I staggered upstairs with my decrepit charge, for whose shattered strength even one hour in Kew Gardens had proved too much! Then, and not until then, when we had got rid of the porter and were alone at last, did I tell Raffles, in the most nervous English at my command, frankly and exactly what I thought of him and of his latest deed. Once started, moreover, I spoke as I have seldom spoken to living man; and Raffles, of all men, stood my abuse without a murmur; or rather he sat it out, too astounded even to take off his hat, though I thought his eyebrows would have lifted it from his head.

”But it always was your infernal way,” I was savagely concluding. ”You make one plan, and yet you tell me another-”

”Not to-day, Bunny, I swear!”

”You mean to tell me you really did start with the bare idea of finding a place to hide in for a night?”

”Of course I did.”

”It was to be the mere reconnoitre you pretended?”

”There was no pretence about it, Bunny.”

”Then why on earth go and do what you did?”

”The reason would be obvious to anyone but you,” said Raffles, still with no unkindly scorn. ”It was the temptation of a minute-the final impulse of the fraction of a second, when Roberto saw that I was tempted, and let me see that he saw it. It's not a thing I care to do, and I sha'n't be happy till the papers tell me the poor devil is alive. But a knock-out shot was the only chance for us then.”

”Why? You don't get run in for being tempted, nor yet for showing that you are!”

”But I should have deserved running in if I hadn't yielded to such a temptation as that, Bunny. It was a chance in a hundred thousand! We might go there every day of our lives, and never again be the only outsiders in the room, with the billiard-marking Johnnie practically out of ear-shot at one and the same time. It was a gift from the G.o.ds; not to have taken it would have been flying in the face of Providence.”