The Black Mask by E. W. Hornung (read after .TXT) 📕

“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 myself.”

“But you shall, sir, but you shall! Do you suppose that I suppose a public-school boy would apply for a berth like this if something or other hadn’t happened? 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 happen, if you don’t tell anybody else. Dr. Theobald, sir, you can go to the devil if you won’t take a hint. This man may do or he may not. You have no more to say to it till I send him down to tell you one thing or the other. Clear out, sir, clear out; and if you think you’ve anything to complain of, you stick it down in the bill!”

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 going 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!” croaked the invalid, raising himself on one elbow 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 been 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 Raphael, and the frame was tilted from the wall; at a touch a packet of cigarettes tumbled down from behind.

“Thanks; and now a light.”

I struck the match and held it, while the invalid inhaled with normal lips; and suddenly I sighed. I was irresistibly reminded 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 smoked more poisonous cigarettes. But even these are not Sullivans!”

I cannot repeat what I said. I have no idea what I did. I only know⁠—I only knew⁠—that it was A. J. Raffles in the flesh!

“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 went all I knew for the sun itself; when it set I must have been a mile 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 away.”

“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 happened 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 I’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 there, 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 all unable to conjecture his true state 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 fifty at the very least. His hair was white; there was no trick about that; and his face was another white. The lines about the corners of the eyes and mouth were both many and deep. On the other hand, the eyes themselves were alight and alert as ever; they were still keen and gray and gleaming, like finely tempered steel. Even the mouth, with a cigarette to close it, was the mouth of Raffles and no other: strong and unscrupulous as the man himself. It was only the physical strength which appeared to have departed; but that was quite sufficient to make my heart bleed for the dear rascal who had cost me every tie I valued but the tie between us two.

“Think I look much older?” he asked at length.

“A bit,” I admitted. “But it is chiefly 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 can assure you. And Naples is a 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 nonconductor of heat; it never need get too hot for a fellow here; if it does it’s his own fault. It’s the kind of wicket you don’t get out on, unless you get yourself out. So here I am again, and have been for the last six weeks. And I mean to have another knock.”

“But surely, old fellow, 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 are you