Mr. Justice RafflesHornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
General
Mr. Justice Raffles
Hornung, E. W. (Ernest William)
Criminals -- England -- Fiction; Raffles (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
"Is there a call-office on the ground?"
"Only in the pavilion, I believe, for the use of the members."
"Then you must go to the nearest one outside."
"And what about you?"
Miss Belsize brightened with her smile of perfect and unconscious
independence.
"Oh, I shall be all right," she said. "I know where to find Mr. Garland,
even if I don't pick up an escort on the way."
But it was she who escorted me to the tall turnstile nearest
Wellington Road.
"And you do see why I want to put Mr. Raffles on his guard?" she said
pointedly as we shook hands. "It's only because you and he have done so
much for Teddy!"
And because she did not end by reminding me of my promise, I was all the
more reluctantly determined to keep it to the letter, even though Raffles
should think as ill as ever of one who was at least beginning to think
better of him.
CHAPTER XI
A Dash in the Dark
In a few lines which I found waiting for me at the club, and have
somewhat imprudently preserved, Raffles professes to have known he was
being shadowed even before we met at Lord's: "but it was no use talking
about it until the foe were in the cart." He goes on to explain the
simple means by which he reduced the gentlemen in billycocks to the pitch
of discomfiture implied in his metaphor. He had taken a hansom to the
Burlington Gardens entrance to the Albany, and kept it waiting while he
went in and changed his clothes; then he had sent Barraclough to pay off
the cab, and himself marched out into Piccadilly, what time the billycock
brims were still shading watchful eyes in Burlington Gardens. There, to
be sure, I myself had spotted one of the precious pair when I drove up
after vain exertions at the call-office outside Lord's; but by that time
his confederate was on guard at the Piccadilly end, and Raffles had not
only shown a clean pair of wings, but left the poor brutes to watch an
empty cage. He dismisses them not unfairly with the epithet
"amateurish." Thus I was the more surprised, but not the less relieved,
to learn that he was "running down into the country for the weekend, to
be out of their way"; but he would be back on the Monday night, "to keep
an engagement you wot of, Bunny. And if you like you may meet me under
the clock at Waterloo (in flannel kit and tennis-shoes for choice) at the
witching hour of twelve sharp."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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