RAFFLES, A GENTLEMAN-THIEF: 27 Adventure Tales in One Volume. E. W. Hornung

know you had anything on?"

      I had turned the tables with some effect. Raffles almost hung his head.

      "The fact is, Bunny, I didn't mean you to know. You—you've grown such a pious rabbit in your old age!"

      My nickname and his tone went far to mollify me, other things went farther, but I had much to forgive him still.

      "If you were afraid of writing," I pursued, "it was your business to give me the tip the moment I set foot on board. I would have taken it all right. I am not so virtuous as all that."

      Was it my imagination, or did Raffles look slightly ashamed? If so, it was for the first and last time in all the years I knew him; nor can I swear to it even now.

      "That," said he, "was the very thing I meant to do—to lie in wait in my room and get you as you passed. But—"

      "You were better engaged?"

      "Say otherwise."

      "The charming Miss Werner?"

      "She is quite charming."

      "Most Australian girls are," said I.

      "How did you know she was one?" he cried.

      "I heard her speak."

      "Brute!" said Raffles, laughing; "she has no more twang than you have. Her people are German, she has been to school in Dresden, and is on her way out alone."

      "Money?" I inquired.

      "Confound you!" he said, and, though he was laughing, I thought it was a point at which the subject might be changed.

      "Well," I said, "it wasn't for Miss Werner you wanted us to play strangers, was it? You have some deeper game than that, eh?"

      "I suppose I have."

      "Then hadn't you better tell me what it is?"

      Raffles treated me to the old cautious scrutiny that I knew so well; the very familiarity of it, after all these months, set me smiling in a way that might have reassured him; for dimly already I divined his enterprise.

      "It won't send you off in the pilot's boat, Bunny?"

      "Not quite."

      "Then—you remember the pearl you wrote the—"

      I did not wait for him to finish his sentence.

      "You've got it!" I cried, my face on fire, for I caught sight of it that moment in the stateroom mirror.

      Raffles seemed taken aback.

      "Not yet," said he; "but I mean to have it before we get to Naples."

      "Is it on board?"

      "Yes."

      "But how—where—who's got it?"

      "A little German officer, a whipper-snapper with perpendicular mustaches."

      "I saw him in the smoke-room."

      "That's the chap; he's always there. Herr Captain Wilhelm von Heumann, if you look in the list. Well, he's the special envoy of the emperor, and he's taking the pearl out with him."

      "You found this out in Bremen?"

      "No, in Berlin, from a newspaper man I know there. I'm ashamed to tell you, Bunny, that I went there on purpose!"

      I burst out laughing.

      "You needn't be ashamed. You are doing the very thing I was rather hoping you were going to propose the other day on the river."

      "You were HOPING it?" said Raffles, with his eyes wide open. Indeed, it was his turn to show surprise, and mine to be much more ashamed than I felt.

      "Yes," I answered, "I was quite keen on the idea, but I wasn't going to propose it."

      "Yet you would have listened to me the other day?"

      Certainly I would, and I told him so without reserve; not brazenly, you understand; not even now with the gusto of a man who savors such an adventure for its own sake, but doggedly, defiantly, through my teeth, as one who had tried to live honestly and failed. And, while I was about it, I told him much more. Eloquently enough, I daresay, I gave him chapter and verse of my hopeless struggle, my inevitable defeat; for hopeless and inevitable they were to a man with my record, even though that record was written only in one's own soul. It was the old story of the thief trying to turn honest man; the thing was against nature, and there was an end of it.

      Raffles entirely disagreed with me. He shook his head over my conventional view. Human nature was a board of checkers; why not reconcile one's self to alternate black and white? Why desire to be all one thing or all the other, like our forefathers on the stage or in the old-fashioned fiction? For his part, he enjoyed himself on all squares of the board, and liked the light the better for the shade. My conclusion he considered absurd.

      "But you err in good company, Bunny, for all the cheap moralists who preach the same twaddle: old Virgil was the first and worst offender of you all. I back myself to climb out of Avernus any day I like, and sooner or later I shall climb out for good. I suppose I can't very well turn myself into a Limited Liability Company. But I could retire and settle down and live blamelessly ever after. I'm not sure that it couldn't be done on this pearl alone!"

      "Then you don't still think it too remarkable to sell?"

      "We might take a fishery and haul it up with smaller fry. It would come after months of ill luck, just as we were going to sell the schooner; by Jove, it would be the talk of the Pacific!"

      "Well, we've got to get it first. Is this von What's-his-name a formidable cuss?"

      "More so than he looks; and he has the cheek of the devil!"

      As he spoke a white drill skirt fluttered past the open state-room door, and I caught a glimpse of an upturned moustache beyond.

      "But is he the chap we have to deal with? Won't the pearl be in the purser's keeping?"

      Raffles stood at the door, frowning out upon the Solent, but for an instant he turned to me with a sniff.

      "My good fellow, do you suppose the whole ship's company knows there's a gem like that aboard? You said that it was worth a hundred thousand pounds; in Berlin they say it's priceless. I doubt if the skipper himself knows that von Heumann has it on him."

      "And he has?"

      "Must have."

      "Then we have only him to deal with?"

      He answered me without a word. Something white was fluttering past once more, and Raffles, stepping forth, made the promenaders three.

      II

      I do not ask to set foot aboard a finer steamship than the Uhlan of the Norddeutscher Lloyd, to meet a kindlier gentleman than her commander, or better fellows than his officers. This much at least let me have the grace to admit. I hated the voyage. It was no fault of anybody connected with the ship; it was no fault of the weather, which was monotonously ideal. Not even in my own heart did the reason reside; conscience and I were divorced at last, and the decree made absolute. With my scruples had fled all fear, and I was ready to revel between bright skies and sparkling sea with the light-hearted detachment of Raffles himself. It was Raffles himself who prevented me, but not Raffles alone. It was Raffles and that Colonial minx on her way home from school.

      What he could see in her—but that begs the question. Of course he saw no more than I did, but to annoy me, or perhaps to punish me for my long defection, he must turn his back on me and devote himself to this chit from Southampton to the Mediterranean. They were always together. It was too absurd. After breakfast they would begin, and go on until eleven or twelve at night; there was no intervening hour at which you might not hear her nasal laugh, or his quiet voice talking soft nonsense into her ear. Of course it was nonsense! Is it conceivable that a man like Raffles, with his knowledge of the world, and his experience