A Thief in the Night: Further adventures of A. J. Raffles, Cricketer and CracksmanHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
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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
"Of sappers," he replied, "and a V.C. into the bargain, confound him!
Got it at Rorke's Drift; prison governor or inspector ever since;
favorite recreation, what do you think? Revolver shooting! You can
read all about him in his own _Who's Who_. A devil of a chap to
tackle, Bunny, when he's at home!"
"And where is he now?" I asked uneasily. "And do you know he isn't on
his way home?"
"Switzerland," replied Raffles, chuckling; "he wrote one too many
labels, and was considerate enough to leave it behind for our
guidance. Well, no one ever comes back from Switzerland at the
beginning of September, you know; and nobody ever thinks of coming
back before the servants. When they turn up they won't get in. I keep
the latch jammed, but the servants will think it's jammed itself, and
while they're gone for the lock-smith we shall walk out like
gentlemen--if we haven't done so already."
"As you walked in, I suppose?"
Raffles shook his head in the dim light to which my sight was growing
inured.
"No, Bunny, I regret to say I came in through the dormer window. They
were painting next door but one. I never did like ladder work, but it
takes less time than in picking a lock in the broad light of a street
lamp."
"So they left you a latch-key as well as everything else!"
"No, Bunny. I was just able to make that for myself. I am playing at
'Robinson Crusoe,' not 'The Swiss Family Robinson.' And now, my dear
Friday, if you will kindly take off those boots, we can explore the
island before we turn in for the night."
The stairs were very steep and narrow, and they creaked alarmingly as
Raffles led the way up, with the single candle in the crown of the
colonel's hat. He blew it out before we reached the half-landing,
where a naked window stared upon the backs of the houses in the next
road, but lit it again at the drawing-room door. I just peeped in upon
a semi-grand swathed in white and a row of water colors mounted in
gold. An excellent bathroom broke our journey to the second floor.
"I'll have one to-night," said I, taking heart of a luxury unknown in
my last sordid sanctuary.
"You'll do no such thing," snapped Raffles. "Have the goodness to
remember that our island is one of a group inhabited by hostile
tribes. You can fill the bath quietly if you try, but it empties under
the study window, and makes the very devil of a noise about it. No,
Bunny, I bale out every drop and pour it away through the scullery
sink, so you will kindly consult me before you turn a tap. Here's your
room; hold the light outside while I draw the curtains; it's the old
chap's dressing-room. Now you can bring the glim. How's that for a
jolly wardrobe? And look at his coats on their cross-trees inside:
dapper old dog, shouldn't you say? Mark the boots on the shelf above,
and the little brass rail for his ties! Didn't I tell you he was
particular? And wouldn't he simply love to catch us at his kit?"
"Let's only hope it would give him an apoplexy," said I shuddering.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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