Part 10 (2/2)

”I-I'll put them back in the vaults to-morrow,” pleaded Rand.

”Can't trust you, my boy,” said Holmes. ”Not with a persuasive crook like old Bucket-s.h.i.+p Gallagher on your trail. They're safer with me.”

Rand's answer was a muttered oath as he tossed the package across the table and started to leave us.

”One word more, Mr. Rand,” said Holmes, detaining him. ”Don't do anything rash. There's a lot of good-fellows.h.i.+p between criminals, and I'll stand by you all right. So far n.o.body knows you took these things, and even when they turn up missing, if you go about your work as if nothing had happened, while you may be suspected, n.o.body can prove that you got the goods.”

Rand's face brightened at this remark.

”By Jove!-that's true enough,” said he. ”Excepting Gallagher,” he added, his face falling.

”Pah for Gallagher!” cried Holmes, snapping his fingers contemptuously. ”If he as much as peeped we could put him in jail, and if he sells you out you tell him for me that I'll land him in Sing Sing for a term of years. He led you into this-”

”He certainly did,” moaned Rand.

”And he's got to get you out,” said Holmes. ”Now, good-bye, old man. The worst that can happen to you is a few judgments instead of penal servitude for eight or ten years, unless you are foolish enough to try another turn of this sort, and then you may not happen on a good-natured highwayman like myself to get you out of your troubles. By-the-way, what is the combination of the big safe in the outer office of the Kenesaw National?”

”One-eight-nine-seven,” said Rand.

”Thanks,” said Holmes, jotting it down coolly in his memorandum-book.

”That's a good thing to know.”

That night, shortly before midnight, Holmes left me. ”I've got to finish this job,” said he. ”The most ticklish part of the business is yet to come.”

”Great Scott, Holmes!” I cried. ”Isn't the thing done?”

”No-of course not,” he replied. ”I've got to bust open the Kenesaw safe.”

”Now, my dear Raffles,” I began, ”why aren't you satisfied with what you've done already. Why must you-”

”Shut up, Jenkins,” he interrupted, with a laugh. ”If you knew what I was going to do you wouldn't kick-that is, unless you've turned crook too?”

”Not I,” said I, indignantly.

”You don't expect me to keep these bonds, do you?” he asked.

”But what are you going to do with them?” I retorted.

”Put 'em back in the Kenesaw Bank, where they belong, so that they'll be found there to-morrow morning. As sure as I don't, Billington Rand is doomed,” said he. ”It's a tough job, but I've been paid a thousand dollars by his family, to find out what he's up to, and by thunder, after following his trail for three weeks, I've got such a liking for the boy that I'm going to save him if it can be done, and if there's any Raffles left in me, such a simple proposition as cracking a bank and puting the stuff back where it belongs, in a safe of which I have the combination, isn't going to stand in my way. Don't fret, old man, it's as good as done. Good-night.”

And Raffles Holmes was off. I pa.s.sed a feverish night, but at five o'clock the following morning a telephone message set all my misgivings at rest.

”h.e.l.lo, Jenkins!” came Raffles's voice over the wire.

”h.e.l.lo,” I replied.

”Just rang you up to let you know that it's all right. The stuff's replaced. Easiest job ever-like opening oysters. Pleasant dreams to you,” he said, and, click, the connection was broken.

Two weeks later Billington Rand resigned from the Kenesaw Bank and went West, where he is now leading the simple life on a sheep-ranch. His resignation was accepted with regret, and the board of directors, as a special mark of their liking, voted him a gift of $2500 for faithful services.

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