A Thief in the Night: Further adventures of A. J. Raffles, Cricketer and CracksmanHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
General
A Thief in the Night: Further adventures of A. J. Raffles, Cricketer and Cracksman
Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
Criminals -- England -- Fiction; Raffles (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
To remove that vile box from the bank, on top of another cab, with no
stronger pretext and no further instructions, was not to be thought of
for a moment. Yet I did think of it, for hours. I was always anxious
to do my part by Raffles; he had done more than his by me, not once or
twice, to-day or yesterday, but again and again from the very first. I
need not state the obvious reasons I had for fighting shy of the
personal custody of his accursed chest. Yet he had run worse risks for
me, and I wanted him to learn that he, too, could depend on a devotion
not unworthy of his own.
In my dilemma I did what I have often done when at a loss for light
and leading. I took hardly any lunch, but went to Northumberland
Avenue and had a Turkish bath instead. I know nothing so cleansing to
mind as well as body, nothing better calculated to put the finest
possible edge on such judgment as one may happen to possess. Even
Raffles, without an ounce to lose or a nerve to soothe, used to own a
sensuous appreciation of the peace of mind and person to be gained in
this fashion when all others failed. For me, the fun began before the
boots were off one's feet; the muffled foot-falls, the thin sound of
the fountain, even the spent swathed forms upon the couches, and the
whole clean, warm, idle atmosphere, were so much unction to my simpler
soul. The half-hour in the hot-rooms I used to count but a strenuous
step to a divine lassitude of limb and accompanying exaltation of
intellect. And yet--and yet--it was in the hottest room of all, in a
temperature of 270 deg. Fahrenheit, that the bolt fell from the _Pall Mall
Gazette_ which I had bought outside the bath.
I was turning over the hot, crisp pages, and positively revelling in
my fiery furnace, when the following headlines and leaded paragraphs
leapt to my eye with the force of a veritable blow:
BANK ROBBERS IN THE WEST END--DARING
AND MYSTERIOUS CRIME
An audacious burglary and dastardly assault have been
committed on the premises of the City and Suburban Bank in
Sloane Street, W. From the details so far to hand, the
robbery appears to have been deliberately planned and
adroitly executed in the early hours of this morning.
A night watchman named Fawcett states that between one and
two o'clock he heard a slight noise in the neighborhood of
the lower strong-room, used as a repository for the plate
and other possessions of various customers of the bank.
Going down to investigate, he was instantly attacked by a
powerful ruffian, who succeeded in felling him to the ground
before an alarm could be raised.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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