The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 16, 1905, Page 6

This is the seventh of a series of thirteen new stories entitied “Raffles, the Amateur Cracksman.” Rafies is destined to achieve as widespread fame in his own peculiar line s did Sherlock Holmes in & to- tally different sphere, for Raffies and Holmes are exact opposites in view, character and career. While Sherlock Holmes exercised his wonderful powers toward the detection of crime, Raffles is represented as a man of unusual intellect d of high birth and breeding who has sunk to employing his undoubted genfus to en- sble him to lve by his wits. The eighth adventure of Rafles—“A Jubilee Present”——will appear mext Sunday. (Copyright, 1888, by Charles Scribner's Sone.) uncertain which surprised e, the telegram calling my to the advertisement or sement itself. The t!l;; at 8 o'clock In the 1897, and recelved it duly found me, t work before the day attic insupportable. rin’s advertisement you earnestly beg if necessary. e thing as I see it be- ibe th but I leave out the initials which completed the sur- stood very obviously for alist whose consult- within a cab whistle of and who once called me is sins. More recently he e other names. I was a qialified by an adjective seemed to me another. I had bed, and I could go and lie it. If I ever again had the e to show my nose in that should go out quicker than I this and more my least 1d tell a poor devil ring for his man and n relent to the tune of this ave no phrase for my t be- rce was a very ore char- Meanly ellip- saving half- Nor was all upon second reputation for live up to it W the the earl u t seen by chance e spur of a guilty and work ries of ar- ad my nib 1 y and parading my aver ones with the m e terms, if unhand- ive work, were temporary It so happened that my ived by the 8 hould be speak for itself t T cannot, and only was a “male nurse endant” that was lderly gentleman in male nurse! An ab- ed offering “liberal or public school udden I saw that I g it I applied for ersity or public d dream of doing s0? ach straits as I? my relentless relat he not y promised to speak for me, but was the very man to do so. Could any endation compete with his in tter of male nurse? And need the duties of such be necessarily loath- repellent? Certainly the sur- would be better than those on lodging-house and own garret, and the food and other condition of life that I k of on my way back to an unsavory asylum. So I dived into a pawnbroker’'s shop, where was a strenger only upon my present errand, and within the hour was airing a de- cent if antiguated suit, but little cor- rupted by the pawnbroker's moth, and & new straw hat, on top of a tram. The address given in the advertise- ment was that of a llat on Earls court, which cost me a cross-country journey, finishing with the District Railway and a seven minutes’ walk. It was now past midday ,and the tarry wood pave- ment was good to smell as I strode up the Barls court road. It was great to walk the civilized world again. Here were men with coats on their backs and ladies in gloves. My only fear was lest I might run up against one or other whom I had known of old. But it was my lucky day. I felt it in my bones. I was going to get this berth; and some- timies I should be able to smell the wood pavement on the old boy's errands; perhaps be would insist on skimming over it in his bath chalr, with me behind. I felt quite nervous when I reached the flats. They were a small plle in a eide street, and I pitied the doctor whose plate I saw upon the palings before the ground-floor windows; he must be in & very small way, I thought. I rather pitied myself as well. I had indulged in visions of better flats than these. There ‘were no baléonies. The porter was out of livery. There was no lift, and my invalid on the third fioor! I trudged up, wishing I had never lived in Mount street, and brushed against a dejected individual coming down. A full-blooded young fellow in a frock coat flung the right door open 2t my summons, particular every could th “Does Mr. Maturin live here?’ I in- red. ‘That's right” said the full-blooded young man, grinning all over a convivial countenance. “I-I've come about his advertisement in the Dally Mail" “You're the thirty-ninth,” cried the blood; “that was the thirty-eighth you met upon the stairs, and the day’'s still young. Excuse my.staring at you. Yes, you pass your prelim. and can come in- side; you're one of the few. We had most just after breakfast, but now the porter's heading off the worst cases, and that last chap was the first for twenty minutes. Come in here.” And I was ushered into an empty room with a good bay-window, which enabled my full-blooded friend to inspect me yet more critically in a good light. This he «<did without the least false delicacy. Then his questions began. “Varsity man?” “Not *Public school?” “Yes” “Which one?” I told him, and he sighed relfef. 20 9% “ e IHEomarp, Ame,YoU cavieo DEVIL; IR Y OU WoNT TARE A BRI “At last! You're the very first I've pot had to argue with as to what is and what is not a public school. Expelled?” “No,” I said after a moment’s hesita- tion; “no, I was not expelled. And I hope you won't expel me if I ask a question in my turn?’ ertainly not.” “Are you Mr. Maturin’s son?” “No, my name is Thecbald. You may have seen it down below.” “The doctor?” 1 said. “His doctor,” said Theobald with a sat- isfled eye. *“Mr. Matufin’s doctor. He is having a male nurse and attendant by my advice, and he wants a gentleman if hé can get one. I rather think he'll see you, though he’s only seen two or three all day. There are certain questions which he prefers to ask himself, and it's no good going over the same ground twice. So perhaps I had better tell him about you before we get any further.” And he withdrew to a room still nearer the entrance, as I could hear, for it was a very small flat indeed. But now two doors were shut between us, and I had to rest content with murmurs through the wall until the doctor returned to summon me. “I have persuaded my patient to see you,” he whispered, “but I confess I am not sanguine of the result. He is very difficult to please. You must prepare yourself for a querulous invalld, and for no sinecure if you get the billet.” “May I ask what's the matter with him?” “By all means—when you've got the._ billet.” Dr. Theobald then led the sway, his professional dignity so thoroughly in- tact that I could not but smile as I fol- lowed his swinging coat tails to the sick room. I carried no smile across the threshold of a darkened chamber which reeked with drugs and twinkled with medicine bottles, and in the middle of which a gaunt figure lay abed in the half-light. “Take him to the window, take him to the window,” a thin voice snapped, “and let's have a look at him. Open the blind a bit. Not as much as that, damn you, not as much as that!” The doctor took the oath as though it had been a fee. I no longer pitied him. It was now very clear to me that he had one patient who was a little practice in himself. I determined there and then that he should prove a little profession to me if we could but keep him alive between us. Mr. Maturin, however, had the whitest face that I have ever seen, and his teeth gleamed out through the dusk as though the withered lips no longer met about them; nor did they except in speech, and anything ghast- lfer than the perpetual grin of his re- pose T defy you to imagine. It was with this grin that he lay regarding me while the doctor held the blind. “S8o0 you think you could look after me, do you?” “I'm certain I could, sir.” “Single-handed, mind! I don’t keep another soul. You would have to cook your own grub and my sloj Do you think you could do all that?’ “Yes, #ir; I think so.” “Why do you? Have you had any ex- perience of the kind?” “No, sir, none.” “Then why do you pretend you have?” “I only meant that I would do my best.” “Only meant, only meant! Have you done your best at everything else, then?” I hung my head. This was a facer. And there was something in my invalid which thrust the unspoken lie down my throat. “No, sir; I have not,” I told him plainly. “He, he, hel” the old wretch tittered; “and you do well to own it; you do well, sir, very well, indeed. If you hadn't owned up out you would have gone, out neck and crop! You've saved your bacon. You may do more. So you are a public- school boy, and a very good school yours is, but you weren't at either university. Is that correct?” “Absolutely.” “What dald you do when you left school?” “I came in for money.” “And then?"” “I spent my money."” “And since then?” I stood like 8 mule. 'And since then, I say!" ‘A relative of mine will tell you if you ask him. He is an eminent man, and he has promised to speak for me. I would rather say no more myselt.” < > “‘But you shall, sir, but you shali! Do Yyou suppose that I suppose a public- school boy would apply for a berth like this if something or other hadn’t hap- pened? What I want is a gentleman of sorts, and I don’t much care what sort; but you've got to tell me what did hap- pen if you don't tell anybody else. Dr. Theobald, sir, you can go to the devil it you won't take a hint. This man may do or he may not. You have no more to say to it till 1 send him down to tell you one thing or the other. Clear out, sir, clear out; and if you think you've any- thing to complain of you stick it down in the bili!” In the mild excitement of our interview the thin voice had gathered strength, and the last shrill insult was screamed after the devoted medico as he retired in such order that I felt certain he was golng to take this trying patient at his word. The bedroom door closed, then the outer one, and the doctor's heels went drumming down the common stair. I was alone in the flat with this highly singular and rather terrible old man. “And a damned good riddance!” croak- ed the invalid, raising himself on one el- bow without delay. “I may not have much body left to boast about, but at least I've got a lost old soul to call my own. That's why I want a gentleman of sorts about me. I've béen too dependent on that chap. He won't even let me smoke, and he's been in the flat all day to see I didn’t. You'll find the cigarettes behind the Madonna of the Chair.” It was a steel engraving of the great Raffaele, and the frame was tilted from the wall; at a touch a packet of cigar- ettes tumbled down from behind. “Thanks; and now a light.” I struck the match and held it, while the invalid inhaléd with normal lip: and suddenly I sighed. I was irre- sistibly réminded of my, poor, dear old Raffles. A smoke ring worthy of the great A. J. was floating upward from the sick man's lips. “And now take one yourself. I have emoked more poisonous cigarettes. But even these are not Sullivans!™ I cannot reveat what ] said. I bave no idea what I did. I only know—I only knew—that it was A, J. Raffles in the tlesh! << IL “Yes, Bunny, it was the very devil of a swim, but I defy you to sink in the Mediterranean. That sunset saved me. The sea was on fire. I hardly swam under water at all, but I went all I knew for the sun itself. When it set I must have been & mileé away; until it did I was the invisible man. I figured on that, and only hope it wasn’t set down as a case of suicide. I shall get outed quite soon enough, Bunny, but I'd rather be dropped by the hangman than throw my own wicket again.” “Oh, my dear old chap, to think of having you by the hand again! I feel as though we were both aboard that German liner, and all that's happehed since a nightmare. I thought that time was the last!” “It looked rather like it, Bunny. It was taking all the risks and hitting at everything. But the game came off, and some day T'll tell you how.” “Oh, I'm in no hurry to hear. It's enough for me to see you lying there. I don’t want to know how you came here, or why, though I fear you must be pretty bad. I must have a good look at you before I let you speak another word!” I raised one of the blinds, I sat upon the bed and I had that look. It left me 41l unable to conlecture his true stéate of health, but quite certain in my own mind that my dear Raffles was not and never would be the man that he had been. He had aged twenty years: he looked like fifty .at the very Tes His hair was white; there was no trick about that: and his face was another white. The lines about the corners of the eves and mouth were both many and débp, On the other hand, the eyes themselves were alight and alert as ever; they were stilt keen and gray and gleaming, like finely tem pered steel. Even the mouth, with a cigarette to close it, the mouth of Haffles and no other—strong and un- scrupulous as the man himself. It was ouly the physical strength whi peared to have departed; but that quite sumcient to make my hes for the dear rascal who had cost every tis I'valued but the tie us two. - b “Think I.look much older?” at “A bit,” I admitted. 1y your hair.* “Whereby hangs a tale, for when we've talked ourselves out, though I have often thought it was that long swim that started it. Still the island of Elba is a rummy show, I ¢an assure you. And Naples is & rummier. “You went there after all?” “Rather! It's the European paradise for such' as our noble ~selves. But there's no place that's a patch on little London as a non-conductor of heat; it never need get too hot for a fellow here. 1f it does it's his own fault. It's the kind of wicket you don't get out on unless yoau get yourseif out. So here I am again and have been for the last six weéeks. And I mean to have another knock.” “But surely, old fsliow, you're not awfully fit, are you?’ “Fit? My dear Bunny, I'm dead— I'm at the bottom of the sea—and don't you forget it for a minute.” . “But dre ‘you all right or are you not?” “No, I'm hqlf poisoned by Theobald's prescriptions and putrid eigarettes and as weak as a cat from lying in bed.” a "’{hen why on earth le in bed, Raf- es?” “Because it's better than lying in Jail, as I am afraid you know, my poor, dear fellow. I tell you I am dead, and my one terror is of coming to life again by accident. Can't you see? I simply dare not show my noss out of doors— by day. You have no of the ber of perfectly i things a dead man daren't do. I can’t even \smoke Sullivans, because no one man was ever 5o partial to them &s I was in my life- time, and you never kmow when you may start a clew.” “What brought you to these man- sions? » “1 fancléd a flat, and a man recom- mended these on the boat. Such a good chap, Bunny; he was my refer- ence when it came to signing the lease, You see I landed on a stretch- er—most pathetic Australian without a friend in old country—or- deréd Engadine as last chance—no go “But It is chief- —not an- earthly- wish to die in London—t tory of Mr, Maturin. If it doean’t hit you hard, Bunny, you're the first. it hit friend Theobald hardest of sll. I'm an income to him. “ I believe he's going to marry on me.” f et t ‘hasn’t L n‘m ’!mutmumulmw.m flmuflg‘mm m'm gflm he R e e - a perfect oval of blue smoke before re- plying. “I was waiting for you to ask that, Bunny. It's a long time since I did any- thing upon which I plume myself more. Of course in the first place I spotted you at once by these prison articles; they were not signed, but the fist was the fist of my sitting rabbit!” “But who gave you my address “I wheedled it out of your excellent edl- tor ca.)#ed on him at dead of night, when 1 occasionally go afield like other ghosts, and.wept it out of him in five minutes. I was your only relative;iyour name was not your own name; if he insisted I would give him mine. He didn’t insist, Bunny, and I danced down his stairs with your address in my pocket.” “Last night?" “No, last week.” “And so the advertisement was yours as well as the telegram I had of course forgottem both in the high excitement of the hour, or I should scarcely have announced my belated dis- covery with such an air. As it was 1 made Raffles look at me as I had known him look before, and the droop of his eyelids began to sting. . ’:‘Wdl:y ni‘l this subtlety?’ I petulantly exclaimed. ‘“Why ern\fldp'tb Ty_ou come straight eway to me in a cal He did notyln!nm me that I was hope- less as ever. He did not address me as his good rabbit. He was silent for a time, and then spoke in a tone which made me d of mine. . 3 £ there are two or three o n.'::w:“' ; one's at the bottom of the terranean and one's an old an desirous of dying in the old country, but in no immediate danger of dying enywhere. The old Australian didn’t know & soul in town; he's got to be t or he's done. This sitter Theobald is his bnly friend and has seen rather too much of him; ordinary dust won't do for his eyes. Begin to see? To pick you out of & crowd, that was the game; to let old Theobald help to pick you, ter still! To start with, he was dead again my having anybody at all; wanted me all to himself, nat- urally; but anything rather than kill the goose! So he to have a fiver a week while he keeps me alive, and he's going to get married mext month. That's a pity in some ways, but a good thing in others; he will want more and Raffles’ might be held over instructions, and so chances had been weeded out and weeded out to the irreducible minimum of risk. His greatest risk, according to Rat- fles, lay nearest home. Bedridden in- valld that he was supposed to be, his nightly terrer was of running inte Theobald’s arms in the immediate neighborhood of the flat. But Raffles had characteristic methods of minimiz- ing even that danger, of which some- thing anon. Meanwhile he recounted more than one of his nocturnal adven- tures, all, however, of a singularly in- nocent type; and one thing I noticed while he talked. His room was the first as you entered the flat. The long, inner wall divided the room not merely from the passage but from the outer landing as well. Thus every step upon the bare stone stairs could be heard by Raffles where he lay, and he would never speak while one was ascending until it had passed his door. The af- ternoon brought more than ome appli- cant for the post which it was my duty to tell them that I had already obtained. Between 3 and 4, however, Raffles, suddenly looking at his watch, packed me off in a hurry to the other end of London for my things. “I'm afraid you must be famishing, Bunny. It's a fact that I eat very little, and that at odd hours, but I ought not to have forgotten you. Get yourself a snack outside, but not a square meal if you can resist one. We've got to cele- brate this day, this night!" “To-night?” I cried. “To-night at 11, and Kellner's th; place. You may well open your ey but we didn't go there much if you remember and the staff seems changed. Anyway we'll risk it for once. I was in last night talking like a stage Amer- ican and supper’s ordered for 11 sharp.” “You made as sure of mo as all that!” “There was no harm in ordering sup- per. We shall have it in a private room, but you may as well dress if you've got the duds.” l"’l'hey'n at my only forgiving rela- tive “How much will get them out and square you up and bring you back bag and baggage In good time?" I had to calculate. “A tenner easily.” “I had one ready for you. Hore it is, and I wouldn't lose any time if T were you. On the way you might look up Theobald, tell him you've got it and how long you'll be gune, and that I can’t be left alone all the time. And, by Jove, yes! You get me a stall for the Lyceum at the nearest agent's— there are two or three in High street— and say it was given you when you come in. That young man shall be out of the way to-night. I found our doctor In a minute con- sylting ro and his shirt sleeves, a tall tumbler at his elbow. At least I caught sight of the tumbler on enter- ing. ler he stood in front of it, with a futility that had my sym- pathy. * “8So you've got the billet,” said Dr. Theobald. “Well, as I told you probab! only ones, and one cannot make too many allowances in such a case.” *“But wha# is the case?” I asked him. “You said you would tell me if I was suc- cessful.”” 's shrug was worthy of the he seemed destined to adorn; it was not incompatible with any construction which one chose to put upon §t. Next moment he had stiffened. I mlnmlpohmorleuhks; gentleman. Yet, after all, I was only the male nurse. He seemed to remember this , and he took occasion to remind me of the fact. “Ah,” said he, “that was before I knew yéu were altogether without experience: and I must say that I was surprised even at Mr. Maturin's engaging you after that; but it will depend upon yourself how long I allow him to persist in so cu- rious an As for what is the matter with him, my good fellow, it is n> use my giving you an answer Wwhich would be double Dutch to you. More over, I have still to test your discretion- ary powers. 1 may say, however, that, that poor gentleman presents at once the most complex and most m:lzomn casey which is responsibility eno ‘without certain features which make it all but in- supportable. Beyond this I must refuse to discuss my patient for the present, but I shall certainly go up if I can find e u;o went up within five minutes. I found him there on my return at dusk. But he did not refuse my stall at the Lyceum, which Raffles would not allow me to use myself, and presented to him offhand without my leave. L “And don't you bother any more about me till to-merrow,” snapped the high, thin volce as he was off. “I can send for you when I want you, and I'm hop- ing to have a decent night for cmce.y — III. It was 10:30 when we left the flat in an interval of silence on the noisy stairs. The silence was unbroken by our wary feet. Yet for me « surprise was in stors upon the very landing. Instead of going downstairs Raffles led me up two flights, and so out upon a perfectly flat roof. “There are two entrances to these man- sions,” he explained between stars and chimney stacks; “one to our staircase and' another round the cormer. But there's only one porter, and he lives on the basement underneath us and affects the door nearest home. We miss him by using the wrong stairs, and we run less risk of old Theobald. I got the tip from the postmen, who come up one way and down the other. Now, follow me and look out!" There was indeed some necessity for cantion, for each half of the building had its L-shaped well dropping sheer to the base, the parapets so low that one might easily have tripped over them into etern- tty. However, we were soon upon the sec- ond staircase, which opened on the roof like the first. And twenty migutes of tha next twenty-five we spent in an admirable hansom, skimming east. “Not much change in the old hole, Bunny. More of these magic-lantern ad- vertisements * * * and absolutely the worst bit of taste in town, though it's saying something. in that equestrian sta- tue with the gilt stirrups and fxings. Why don't they black the buffer’s boots and his horse’s hoofs while they are about it? * * * More bicyclists, of course. That was just beginning, if you remember. It might have been useful to us. * * * And there’s the old club get- ting put into a crate for the jubilee. By Jove, Bunny, we ought to be there. I wouldn't lean forward in Plecadilly, old chap. If you're seen I'm thought of, and we shall have to be jolly careful at Kell- mer's. * * * Ah, there it is! Did I tell you I was a low-down stage Yankee at Keliner's? You'd better be another while the walter’s in the room.” ‘We had the little room upstairs, and on the very threshold I, even I, who knew my Raffles of old. was taken horridly aback. The table was lald for three. I called bis attention to it In a whisper. “Why, yep!” came through his nose. “Say, boy, the lady, she’s not comin’, but you leave that tackle where ‘tis. If I'm Hable to pay I guess I'll have all there is to it.” I have never been in America, and the American public is the last on earth that I desire to insult, but idiom and in- tonation alike would have imposed upon my inexperience. I had to look at Raffles to make sure that it was he who spoke, and I bad my own reasons for ldoking hard. “Who on earth was the lady?” I in- quired aghast at the nrst opportunity. “She isn’t on earth. They don’t like wasting . this room on two, that's all Bunny—my Bunny—here's to us both!" And we clinked glasses swimming with the liquid gold of Steinberg, 1363; but of the rare delights of that sup- per I c.n scarcely trust myself to write. It was no mere meal, it. was no cearse orgy, but a little feast for the fastidious gods, not unworthy of Lu- cullus at his worst. And I who had bolted my skilly at wormwood Scrubbs and tightened my belt in a Holloway - attic, it was I who sat down to this in~ effable repast! Where the courses were few, but each a triumph of its kind, it would be invidious to single out any one dish; but the jambon de Westphails au champagne tempts me sorely. And then the champagne that we drank, not the quantity but the quality! Well, it ‘was Pol Roger, '$4, and - quite = good enough for me; but even 50 it was not more dry, nor did it sparkle more, than the merry rascal who had dragged me thus far to the devil, but should lead me dancing the rest of the way. I was beginning to tell him so. I had done my honest best since my reappearance in the world, but the world had done its worst by me. A further antithesis and my final intention were both upon my tongue when the waiter with the Chateau Margaux cut me short, for he was the bearer of more than that great wine, bringing also a card upon a sil- ver tray. “Show him up,” sald Raffles laconic- y. “And who is this?".I cried when the man was gone. reached across the table and gripped my arm in his vise. His eyes were steel points fixed on mine. “Bunny, stand by me,” said he in the old, irresistible voice—a volce both stern and winning. “Stand by me, Bunpy—if there's a row!” And there was time for nothing more, the door flying open and a dapper per- son entering with a bow, a frock coat on his back, gold pince-nez on his nose, a shiny hat in ome hand and a black bag in the other. “Good evening, gentlemen,” said he, d smilin 8- wn,” drawled Raffles In casual response. “Say let me Introduce you to Mr. Ezra B. Martin, of Shicawgo. Mr. Martin is my future 5