A Thief in the Night: A Book of Raffles' AdventuresHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
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A Thief in the Night: A Book of Raffles' Adventures
Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
Criminals -- England -- Fiction; Raffles (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
I leaned forward not to lose a word. I knew my Raffles so well that I
felt almost capable of reporting his speech before I heard it. Never
was I more mistaken, even in him! So far from a gibe for a gibe and a
taunt for a taunt, there never was softer answer than that which A. J.
Raffles returned to Nipper Nasmyth before the staring eyes and startled
ears of all assembled. He courteously but firmly refused to believe a
word his old friend Nasmyth had said--about himself. He had known
Nasmyth for twenty years, and never had he met a dog who barked so loud
and bit so little. The fact was that he had far too kind a heart to
bite at all. Nasmyth might get up and protest as loud as he liked: the
speaker declared he knew him better than Nasmyth knew himself. He had
the necessary defects of his great qualities. He was only too good a
sportsman. He had a perfect passion for the weaker side. That alone
led Nasmyth into such excesses of language as we had all heard from his
lips that night. As for Raffles, he concluded his far too genial
remarks by predicting that, whatever Nasmyth might say or think of the
new fund, he would subscribe to it as handsomely as any of us, like
"the generous good chap" that we all knew him to be.
Even so did Raffles disappoint the Old Boys in the evening as he had
disappointed the school by day. We had looked to him for a noble
raillery, a lofty and loyal disdain, and he had fobbed us off with
friendly personalities not even in impeccable taste. Nevertheless, this
light treatment of a grave offence went far to restore the natural
amenities of the occasion. It was impossible even for Nasmyth to reply
to it as he might to a more earnest onslaught. He could but smile
sardonically, and audibly undertake to prove Raffles a false prophet;
and though subsequent speakers were less merciful the note was struck,
and there was no more bad blood in the debate. There was plenty,
however, in the veins of Nasmyth, as I was to discover for myself
before the night was out.
You might think that in the circumstances he would not have attended
the head master's ball with which the evening ended; but that would be
sadly to misjudge so perverse a creature as the notorious Nipper. He
was probably one of those who protest that there is "nothing personal"
in their most personal attacks. Not that Nasmyth took this tone about
Raffles when he and I found ourselves cheek by jowl against the
ballroom wall; he could forgive his franker critics, but not the
friendly enemy who had treated him so much more gently than he deserved.
"I seem to have seen you with this great man Raffles," began Nasmyth,
as he overhauled me with his fighting eye. "Do you know him well?"
"Intimately."
"I remember now. You were with him when he forced himself upon me on
the way down yesterday. He had to tell me who he was. Yet he talks as
though we were old friends."
"You were in the upper sixth together," I rejoined, nettled by his tone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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