The evening world. Newspaper, July 29, 1905, Page 10

— THE WORLD: SATURDAY EVENING, JU (and once only in all my knowledge of him) did he drain his glares at a * didn't see the balcony scene?" he asked at length; and they were "his first words since the woman passed us on his track “Do you mean when she came in?” ‘No, when I came down.” T didn’t.” 3 “IT hope nobody else saw it,” said Raffles devoutly. “I don't say that ) Romeo and Juliet were brother and sister to us. But you might have said #0, Bunny!” 7 He was staring at the carpet with as wry a face as lover ever wort “An old flame?” said I, gently. “A married woman,” he groaned. “So I gathered.’ .- “But she always was one, Bunny,” said he, ruetully. 5 ble. It makes all the difference in the world!’ T saw the difference, but said I did not see how it could make any now. ‘Ve had eluded the lady, after all; had we not seen her off upon a scent as ) false as scent could be? There was occasion for redoubled caution in the future, but none for immediate anxiety. I quoted the bedside Theobald, “Dut Raffles did not smile. His eves had veen downcast all this time, and ‘= now, when he raised them, I perceived that my comfort had been adminis- tered to deaf cars. a “Do you know who she is?” “Not from Eve.” “Jacques Saillard,” he said, as though now IT must know. Dut the name left me cold and stolid. T had heard it, but that was all. It was lamentable ignorance, | am aware, but I had specialized in Letters xpense of Art. Be evou taint tnow her pictures,"” said Raffles patiently; “bat 1 = suppose you thought che was a man. They would appe.t! to you, Bunny; that festive piece over the sideboard was her ‘vork ‘Bometimes they risk her at the Academy, sometimes they fight Shy. She has one of those studios in ‘the same Suare; they used to live " @p near Lord’: My mind was busy brightening a © dim memory of nympbs reflected in woody pools. ‘Of cour: I ex- © elaimed, and added something about “a clever woman.” Raffles rose at » the phrase. ¥ “A clever woman!" he echoed “seornfuliy. “If she were only that I F should feel safe as houses. Clever women can’t forget their cleverness; © they carry it as badly as a boy does "wine. and are about as dangerous. T © don’t call Jacques Saillard clever out- side ber art, but neither do I call her & women at all. She does man’s work over a man's name, has the will of any ten men I ever knew, and I don't © mind telling you that I fear her more ' than any person on God's earth. I broke with her once,” said Raffles grimly, “bunt I know her. If 1 had been asked to nume the one person in London by whom I was keenest not to he bowled out, 1 should have "mamed Jacques Saillard.”” That he had neve: before named ~ her to me was as characteristic as the ) reticence with which Raffles spoke of their past relations, and even of their conversation in the back crawing- room that evening; it was a question of principle with him, and one thai 1 like to remember. Never give a woman away, Bunn he used to fay; and he said it again to-night, but with a heavy cloud upon him though his chivalry was sorely tried. “That's all right,” said 1, “if you're not going to be given away yourself.” “That's just it, just”»— The words were out of_him, it " Was too late to recall them. I had hit the nail upon the head. “So she threatened you,” I sz “did she?” “T didn't say so,” he replied coldly. a “And she is mated with a clown!” | I pursued. 2 “How she ever married him,” ho i, a mystery to me.” ." said 1, the wise , and rather enjoying “That's the trou- said he. Bunny! That's id, “Southern blood?” “Spanish.” “She'll be pestering you to run + off with her, old chap,” said I Raffles was pacing the room, stopped in his stride for half ond. So she had begun pestering him already! lt is wonderful how acute any fool can be in the affairs of his friend. But Raffles resumed his walk i without a syllable, and I retreated to », safer ground. “So you sent her to Earl's Court,” IT mused aloud, and at last he smiled. He (Posed rle Bellew, arrangement Lieble: o) Youll be interested to hear, 01 " said h. that I'm now living in Seven. Dials, and Bil Sykes Fight arm stretched couldn't hold a farthing dip to Outward and upward, me. Bless you, she had my old police record at her fingers’ ends, but it was fit ty from. compared with the one I gave her. I had sunk as low as they did. 1 divided my nights between the open park and a tnieves' kitchen in Seven Dials, if | was decently ¢ ed it was because I had stolen the suit down the Thames Valley beat the night before last. { was on my way back when first tha leepy square, and then her open window proved too much for me. You should have heard me beg her to let me push on to the devil in my ow H way; there I spread myself, for I meant every word; but I swore the final stage would be a six-foet drop.” “You did | "said I “IL was ne ini that had its effect, She let me go. But at the last moment she 1e didn't believe I was so black as I painted myself, and then there was the buleony scene you missed.’ So that was all. I could not help telling him that he had got out of it better than he deserved for ever getting in. Next moment | regretted the remark ‘If I have got out of it,” suid Raffies doubtfuly. “We are dreadfully near neighbors, and I cant move in a minute, with old Theobald taking a grave view of my case, I suppose I had better lie low, and thank the again for putting her off the scent for the time being.” No doubt our conversation wa is carried beyond this point, but it cer- tainly was not many minutes later, nor had we left the subject, when the electric bell thrilled us both to a sudden silence 'e “The doctor?” I quer it was a single ring The last post?" You know he knocks, and it's long past his time,” The electric bell rang again, but now as though it never would stop. “You go, Bunny,” said Raffles, with decision. His eyes were sparkling His smile was ‘firm. “What am | to say?” “Tf it’s the lady let her in.” It was the lady, still in her evening cloak. with her fine dark head half hidden by the hood, and an engaging contempt of appearances upon her angry face, She was even handsomer than I had thought, and her beauty of a Lolder type, but she was also angrier than 1 had anticipated when I fame 90 readily to the door, The passage Into which it opened was an ex- )} ceedingly narrow one, as I have often said, but I never dreamed of barring ) this woman's way, though not a word did she stoop to say to me. I was » only too glad to flatten myseif against the wall, us tue rusiling fury strode: " past we into the lighted room with the open door, “So this is your thieves’ kitchen!” she cried, in high-pitched scorn _/ T'was on the threshold riyself, and Raffles glanced towards me with Paised eyebrows q "Lt have certainly nad better quarters in my day," said he, * . need not call them absurd names before my man” i “Then send your ‘man’ avout his business,” said Jacques Suaillard, with AD urplecasant stress upon the word indicated, / But when the door was shut J heard Raffles assuring her that | knew rt , that he was a rev! invalid a: me by a sudden mad temptation, a alt he had told her of his life a He to hide his whereabouts, but ail he Was telling her now she could prove for herself without leaving that build- ing. It seemed, however, that she had proved it already by going first to x below stairs. Yet I do not think she cared one atom which story the truth. ou thought | could piss you in your chair,” she sald, “oy ever in again, without hearing from my heart that it was you!” 1, hope f hting with my horror. yut yon a uU “Bunny,” said Raffles, “I'm awfull, old chap, but you've got to go.” It was some weeks since the first untimely visitation of Jacques Sail- lard, but there had been many others at all hours of the day, while Raffles ad been induced to pay at least one to her studio in the neighboring square. ese intrusions he had endured at first with an air of humorous resignation which imposed upon me less than he imagined, The woman meant well, he sald, 1, and econld be trusted to keep his secret loyally. It was plain to me, however, that Raffles did not trust her, and that his pretence upon the point was a deliberate pose to conceal the extent to which she had him in her power. Otherwise there would have been little point in hiding anything from the one person in possession of the cardinal secret of his identity. But Raffles thought it worth his while to hoodwink Jacques Suil- lard in the subsidiary matter of his health, in which Dr. Theobald lent him unwitting assistance, and, as we have seen, to impress upon her that | was tually his attendant, and as ignorant of his past as the doctor himself. So you're all right, Bunn. he had assured me; “she thinks you knew nothing the other night. 1 told you she wasn't a clever woman outside her work. Bnt hasn't she a will!” 1 told Raffles it ‘was very considerate of him to keep me out of it, Dut that it seemed to me like tying up the bag when the cat had es- ped. His reply was an dmission that one must be on the defensive with such a woman and in such a case. Soon after this, Raffl looking far from well, fell back upon his own last line of defense, namely his bed; and as always in the end, I could see some sense in his subtleties, since it somparatively easy for me to turn even Jacques Saillard from the door, with Dr. Theobald's explicit in- So for a da peace once more, Then came letters, then the doctor again and again, and finally my dismissal in the incredible words which have necessitated these explanations. “Go?” 1 echoed s Th “Go where that He “On my going altogether?” Ife nodded. And you mean to let him have his ay?” 1 had no language for my mortifi- cation and disgust, though neither wit yet quite so as my sur- I had foreseen almost every conceivable consequence of the m act which brought all this trouble to , but a voluntary division between fles and me had certainly never entered my calculations, _ Nor could I think it had occurred to him be- fore our egregious doctor's last visit, this very morning. Raffles had look- ed irritated as he broke the news to me from his pillow, and now there wag some sympathy in the y he sat up in bed as though he felt the thing himself. “I am obliged to give in to the fel- low,” said he. “He's saving me from my friend, and I'm bound to humor him tut | can tell you that we've Deen arguing about you for the last half hour, Bunny. It was no use; the idiot hes had his knife in you from the and be wouldn't see me through on any other conditior “So he is going to see you through, he?” It tots up to that,” said Raffles, looking at me rather hard. events, he has come to my 3 for the time being, and it’s for me to age the rest. You don’t know what it has been, Bunny, these last few weeks; and gallantry forbids that 1 should tel! you even now. But would you rather elope against your will, or have your continued existence made known to the world in general ané the police in particular? T is prac- tically the problem which [ have had to solve, and the temporary solution was to fall ill As a matter of fact I am ill; and now what do you think? I owe it to you to tell you, Bunny, though it goes against the grain. She would take me ‘to the dear, warin underworld, where the sun really shines,’ und she would ‘nurse me back to life and love!’ The artistie temperament a fearsome thing, Bunny, in a woman with the devil's own will!” Raffles tore up the letter from which he had read these piquant ex- , and lay back on the pillows with the tired air of the veritable in- i which he seemed able to assume at will, But for once he did look though bed was the best place fur him; and I used the fact as an argu- ment for my own retention in deflance of Dr. Theobald, The town was full ef typhoid, 1 said, and certainly that autumnal scourge was in the air, Did he want me to leave him at the very moment when he might be sickening for a serious illness? “You know I don't, my good fellow,” said Raffles wearily; “but Theo- bald does, and I can't afford to go against him now. Not that I really care what happens to me now that that woman knows I'm in the land of the living: she'll let it out, to a dead certainty, and at the best there'll be a hue and cry, which is the very thing I have escaped all these years. Now, what 1 want you to do is to go and take some quiet place somewhere, and then let me know, so that | may have a port in the storm when it breaks.” “Now you're talking!" I cried, recovering my spirits, “I thought you meant to go and drop a fellow altogether!” “Exactly the sort of thing you would think,” rejoined contempt that was weleome enough after my late alarm. No, my dear Mubbit, what you've got to do is to make a new burrow for us both. Try down the Thames, in some quiet nook that a literary man would naturally select. I've often thought that more nse might be made of a boat, while the family are at dinner, than there ever has been yet. If Raffles is to come to life, old chap, he shall go a-Raffling for all he's worth! There's something to be done with a bieyele, too. Try Ham Common or Roe- hampton, or some sleepy hollow a trifle off the line; and say you're expect- ing your brother from the colonies. into this arrangement I entered without we had funds enough to carry if out on a comfortable scale, and Raffles placed & sufficient share at my disposal for the nonce. Moreover, I for one only too glad to seek fresh flelds and pastures new—a phrase which I fetersmined to interpret literally in my choice of fresh surroundings. 1 was tired of our submerged life in the poky little flat, especially now that we had money enough for better things, 1 myself had of late had dark dealings with the receivers, with the result that poor Lord Ernest Belyille's successes were now Indeed ours. Subsequent complications had been the more galling on that account, while the wanton way in which they had Neen created was the most irritating refiection of all, But it had brought its on punishment upon Raffles, and I fancied the lesson would prove salutary when we again settled down, f ever we do, Bunny!” said he, as | took his hand and told him how already looking \orward to the time, But of cou we will,” I eried, concealing the resentment at leaving him which his tone and his appearance renewed in my breast, “I'm not so sure of it,” he said, gloomily. “I'm in somebody's clutches, and I've got to get out of the ee “VL sit Ught until you do." w first; tract val ffles, with a the slightest hesitation, for 1 wa “Well,” he said, “if you don’t see me in ten days you never will “Only ten days?" T echoed, “That's nothing at all.” “A lot may happen in ten days,” replied Raffles, in the same depressing tone, so very depressing in him; and with that he held out his hand a seeond time, and dropped mine suddenly after as sudden a pressure for farewell 1 left the flat in considerable dejection after all, unable to decide whether Raffles was really ill, or only worried as | knew him to be. And at the foot of the stairs the author of my dismissal, that confounded Theo- bald, flung open his ind wayleid me. “Are you inded he traps fn my hands prociaimed that T was, but I dropped them his feet to have it out with him then and there. Yes,” | answered flercely, “thanks to you! “Well, my good fellow,” he said, his full-blooded face lightening and softening at the same time, as thongh a lond were off his mind, “it's no pleasire to me to deprive any man of his billet, but you never were a nurse, and you know that as well as I do.” T began to wonder what he meant, and how much he did know, and my speculations kept me silent. “But come tn here a moment,” he continued, just as I decided thet he knew nothing at all. And leading me into his minute consulting-room, Dr. Theobald solemnly presented me with a sover- eign by way of compensation, which T pocketed as solemnly, and with as much itude as if.1 nad not fifty of them distributed over my person as it wos. The good fellow had quite forgotten my social status, aout which he himself had been so particular at oar earliest interview: but he had never accustomed himself to treat me as a gentleman, and I do not suppose he had been improving his memory by the tall tumbler which | saw him poke behind a photograph frame as we entered. “There's one thing I should like to know before I go,” said I, turn- ing suddenly on the doctor's mat, “and that is whether Mr. Maturin is really ill or not!” ! meant, of course, at the present moment, bit himself like a recruit at the drill-sergeant's voice. “Of course he is,” he s: ped—"so ill as to need a nurse who can nurse, by way of a change.” With that his door shut in my face, and | had to go my way, in the dark as to whether he had mistaken my meaning, and s telling me a lie, or not. But for my misgivings upon tkis point I might have extracted some very genuine enjoyment out of the next few days. | had decent clothes to my back, with money, as I say, in most of the pocket more freed to spend it than was pcssible in the constant society of per sonal liberty depended on a universal supposition that he w Raffles was as bold as ever, and I as fond of him, but whereas he would run any risk in a professional exploit, there were many innocent recreations still oper to me which wonld have been sheer madness in him, He could not even watch a match, from the sixpenny seats, Lord’s Cricketground, where the Gentlemen were every year in a worse way without him. He never travelled by rail, and dining out was a risk only to be run with some ulterior object in view. In fact, much as it had ged, Raffles could no longer show his face with perfect impunity in any quarter or at any hour Moreover, after the lesson he had now learnt, | foresaw increased caution on his part in this respect. But I myself was under no such perpetual dis- advantage, and, while what was good enough for Raffl s quite good enough for me, 80 long as we were together, I saw no harm in profiting by the present opportunity of “doing myself well.” Such were my reflections on the way to Richmond in a hansom cab. Richmond had struck us both as the best centre of operations in search of the suburban retreat which Raffles wanted, and by road, in a well-appoint- ed, well-selected hansom, was certainly the most agreeatle way of getting there. In a week or ten days Raffles was to write to me at the Richmond Post-Office, but for at least a week I should be “on my own.” It was not an unpleasant sensation as I leant back in the comfortable hansom, and rather to one side, in order to have a good look at myself in the bevelled mirrer that is almost as great an improvement in these vehicles as the rubber tires. Really I was not an ill-locking youth, if one may call one’s self such at the age of thirty. I could lay no claim either to the striking cast of countenance or to the peculiar charm of expression which made the face of Raffles like no other in the world. But this very distinction was in itself a danger, for its impression was indelible, wher 1 might still have heen mistaken for a hundred other young fellows 2 in London. Incredible as it may appear to the moralists, I had sustained no external aallmark by my term of imprisonment, and I am vain enough to believe that the evil which I did had not a separate existence in my face. This afteracon, indeed, I was struck by the purity of my fresh complexion, and vather depressed by the general innocence of the age which peered into mine from the little mirror. My straw-colored mustache, grown in the flat after 2 protracted holiday, aguin preserved the most disappointing dimen- sions, and was still invisible in cer- tain lights without wax So far from discerning the desperate criminal who has “done time” once, and de- served it over and over again, the superior but superficial observer might have imagined that he detect- ed a certain element of folly in my face. At all events, it was not the face to shut the doors of a first-cl. hotel against me, without accidental evi- dence of a more explicit kind, and it was with no little satisfaction that I directed the man to drive to the Star and Garter. I also told him to ga through Richmond Park, though he warned me that it would add consid- erably to the distance and his fare. It was autumn, and {ft struck me that the tints would be fine. And I had learned from Raffles to appreciate such things, even amid the excite- ment of an audacious enterpri If I dwell upon my appre at Dr, Theobald braced of this occasion it is because, mest pleasures, it was exceedir short-li at the § empty that | had a room worthy of a prince, where L could enjoy the finest of all views (in patriotic opinion) every morning while I shaved. [ walked many miles through the noble park, over the commons of Ham and Wimbledon, and one day os far as that of Esher, where I was forcibly reminded of a service we once ren- dered to a distinguished resident in this delightful locality, But it was on Ham Common, one of the places which Raffles had mentioned as spe- cially desirable, that T actually found an almost ideal retreat. This » a cottage where I heard, on ing that rooms were to be let in the sum- mer. ‘The landlady, a motherly body, of visible excellence, was surprised, indeed, at receiving an application for the winter months; but 1 have generally found that the title ct “author,” claimed with an air, explaing every little innocent irreg- ularity of conduct or appearance, und even requires something of the kind to carry conviction in the lay intelligence. The present case was one in point, and when I said that I could only write in a room facing north, on mutton chops and milk, with a cold ham in the wardrobe in case of nocturnal inspiration, to which {| was liable, my literary character was established beyond dispute, I secured the rooms, paid a month's rent in advance at my own request, and moped in them dreadfully until the week was up and Raffles due any day. I explained that the inspiration would not come, and asked abruptly if the mutton was New Zealand, Thrice had I made fruitless Inquiries at the Richmond Post-Oifice; but on the tenth day J was in and out almost every hour, Not a word was there for me up to the last post at night. Home I trudged to Ham with horrible forebodings, and back again to Richmond after breakfast next morning. Still there was nothing. I could bear it no more. At ten minutes to eleven J «was climbing the station stairs at Earl's Court. It was a wretched morning there, a weeping mist shrouding the Jong straight street, and clinging to one’s face in clammy caresses. I felt how much better it was down at Ham, as I turned into our street, and saw the flats looming like mountains, the chimney-pots hidden in the mist, At our entrance stood a nebulous conveyance, that I took at first for a trades- man's van; to my horror it proved to be a hearse; and all at once the white breath ceased upon my lips, T had looked up at our windows and the blinds were down! i rushed within, The doctor's door stood open, I neither knocked nor rang, but found him in his consulting-room with red eyes and a blotchy face. Otherwise he was in solemn black from head to heel. “Who is dead?” I burst ont. ‘Who is dead The red eyes looked redder than ever as Dr. Theobald opened them at the unwarrantable sight of me; and he was terribly slow in answering. But in the end he did answer, and did not kick me out as he evidently had a mind, “Mr, Maturin,” he sald, and sighed like a beaten man, ! said nothing. It was no surprise to me, | had known it all these minutes, Nay, I had dreaded this from the first, had diyined it at the last, though to the last also I had refused to entertain my own conviction, (Posei by Kyrle Bellew, arrangement Liebler Bowing like a mountebank. Raffles dead! burt “What did he die of?" I asked, unconsciously drawing on that fund ef grim self-control which the weakest of us seem to hold in reserve for real calamity. “Typhoid,” he answered, “Kensington is full of it.’ “He was sickening for it when I left, and you knew it, and could get rid of me then! “My good fellow, I was obliged to have a more experienced nurse for that very reason.” The doctor's tone was so conciliatory that | remembered in an instant what a humbug the man was. and became suddenly possessed with the vague conviction that he was imposing upon me now, “Are you sure it was typhoid at all?” I cried fierc you sure it wasn't suicide or murder? I confess that I can see little point in this speech as I write it down but it was what I said in a burst of grief and of wild suspicion; nor was it without effect upon Dr. Theobald, who turned bright scarlet from his well-brushed hair to his immaculate collar. “Do you want me to throw you out into the street?” he cried; and all at once | remembered that I had come to Raffles as a perfect stranger, and for his sake might as well preserve that character to the last. A real invalid after all! Raffles dead, and on the point of ly to his face, “Are “I beg your pardon,” I said, brokenly. "He was so good to me—T be- came so attached to him. You forget [am originally of his clas “I did forget it,” replied Theobald, looking relieved at new tone, “and I beg your pardon for doing so. I must have a drink before we start, and you'd better join me." There was no pretense about his drink this time, and a pretty stiff one it was, but I fancy my own must have run it hard. In my it cast a merciful haze over much of the next hour, which T can truthfully describe as one of the most painful of my whole existence. I can have known ve little of what I was doing, 1 only remember finding myself in a hanso uddenly wondering why it was going so slowly, and once more awoking fo the truth. But it was to the truth itself more than to the liquor that I must have owed my dazed condition. My next recollection is of loot down into the open gr: , in a sudden passionate anxiety to see the name for myself. It was not the name ef my friend, of course, but it the one under which he bad passed for many months. Hush! They are bringing him down I was still stupefied by a sense of inconceivable loss, and had not raised ‘yes from that which was slowly forcing me to realize whatghad hep- was a rustie at my elbow, and a shower of hothouse assed before them, falling like huge snowflakes where my ga7> had rested, 1 looked up, and at my side stood a majestic figure in dee mourning. The face was carefally veiled. but | was too close not to rv nize the misterful beauty whom the world knew had no sympathy with her as Jacques Saillard ) on the contrary, my blood boiled wit) t ague conviction that in some ‘vay she was responsible for this death. she was the only woman present—there were not half a dozen of us alt gether—and her flowers were the ouly flowers The m in a funereal brov her drive away through the fog Iw neholy ceremony was over, and Jacques Sai a am, evidently hired for the oce I had watched and the sight of my own cabman, making signs to me had suddenly reminded me that I had bidden him to wait s the last to leave nd had turned my back upon the grave-diggers, already at their final task, when a hand fell lightly but firmly upon my shoulder. ‘I don't want to make a scene in a cemete: saic a voice, in a not unkindly most confidential whisper. “Will you get into your own cab and come quietly?” “Who on earth are you?" I exclaimed I now remembe: having seen the fellow hovering about during the ral, andesubconsciously taking him for the undertaker’s head man. He rtainly that appearance, and even now I could scarcely believe tha! anything else. y name won't help you,” he said, pityingly. I come from when I tell you I have a warrant for your arrest y tions at this announcement may not be believed, but I solemnly I have seldom experienced so fierce a satisfaction. Here was a new excitement in which to drown my grief; here was something to think about; and 1 should be spared the intolerable experience of a solitary return to the little place at Ham. It was as though I had lost a limb ané some one had struck me so hard in the face that the greater agony was forgotten. I got into the hangom without a wo: my captor following at my heels, and giving his own directions to the cabman before taking his “But you will guess seat. The word “Station” was the only one I caught, and T wondered whether it w to be Bow Street again. Mv companion’s next words, how- ever, or rather the tone in which he uttered them, destroyed my capacity for idle ulation. “Mr. Maturin!” said he. ‘Mr. Maturin, indeed!” “Well.” sald I, “what about him? “Do you think we don't know whe he was? “Who was he?” I asked defiantly “You ought to know," said he “You got locked up through him ths other time, too, His favorite naw was Raffles then.” It war his real name," T said in dignantly nd he has been dead years.” My captor simply chuckled. “He's the bottom of the sea, 1 tell yout” But I do not know why T shone have told him with such spirit, fo: what could it matter to Raffles now’ I did not think; instinct was stil stronger than reason, and, fresh fron his funeral, I had taken up the cuc sels for my dead friend as though he we still alive. Next moment I saw this for myself, and my tears came Nearer the surfece than they hac been vet; but the fellow at my side langhed outright “Shall LT tell you something els he. ro ‘ou like," not the bottom of that grave! Sno more dead thar you or I, and a sham burial is hit latest piece of villain T doubt whether ‘ould have spoken if I had tried. I did not try. T had no use for speech. I did not even ask him if he was sure, I was so sure myself. It was all as plair 8 riddles usually are wher the answer, The doctor's his unscrupulous venality the simulated illness, my own dis 1, each fitted in its obvious vnd not even the last haé power as yet to mar my joy in the one central fact to which all the res were as tapers to the sun, “He is alive!" I cried else matters—he is alive!” At last I did ask whether they hac got him too; but thankful as | was for the greater knowledge, I confess that I did not much care what answer I received, Already I was figuring out how much we might each get, and how old we should be when we came out, But my companion tilted hig hat to the back of his head, at the same time putting his face close to mine and conipelling my scrutiny. And my answer, as you have already guessed, was the face of Raffles himself, superbly disguised (but less superbly than his voice), and yet so thinly that I should have known him in a trice hac I not been too miserable in the beginning to give him a second glance Jacques Sa'llard had made his life tmpossible, and this was the one escape, Rafiles had bought the doctor for a thousand pounds, and the doc tor had bought a “nurse” of his own Kidney, on his own account; me, for some reason, he would not trusts he had insisted upon my dismissal as an essential preliminary to his part in the conspiracy, Here the details were half humorous, half gruesome, each in turn as Raffles told me the story, At one period he hud been very daringly drugged indeed, and, in his owr words, “as dead as a’ man need be," but he,had left strict instructions that nobody but the nurse and “my devoted physician” should “lay a finger on me" afterwards, und hy virtue of this proviso a library of books (largely acquired for the occasion’ had been tmpiously interred at Kensal Green, Raffles had definitely undertaken not to trust me with the secret, and bul for my untoward appearance at the funeral (which he had attended for his own final satisfaction), | was assured and am convinced that he would have kept his promise to the letter, In explaining this he gave me the one ex: planation I desired, and in another moment we turned into Praed street, Paddington, “And T thought you sald Bow strect!” sald J, down to Richmond with me?” “lL may as well,” said Raffles, “though I did mean to get my kit first so as to start in fair and square as the long-lost brother from the bush, That's why I hadn't written, ‘he function was a day later than I caleu: lated. 1 was going to write to-night!” “But what are we to do?” said I hesitating when he had paid the cab “I have been playing the colonies for all they are worth!" “Oh, I've lost my luggage,” said he, “or a wave came into my cabin and spoiled every stitch, or I had nothing fit to bring ashore, We'll settl: that in the train.” (THE END.) “Nothing Company.) “Are you coming straight