Here we are, though--and I'm hanged if
the beggar isn't in bed and asleep after all!"
We had turned into Bond Street, and had halted on the curb a few
yards down on the right. Raffles was gazing up at some windows
across the road, windows barely discernible through the mist, and
without the glimmer of a light to throw them out. They were over
a jeweller's shop, as I could see by the peep-hole in the shop
door, and the bright light burning within. But the entire "upper
part," with the private street-door next the shop, was black and
blank as the sky itself.
"Better give it up for to-night," I urged. "Surely the morning
will be time enough!"
"Not a bit of it," said Raffles. "I have his key. We'll surprise
him. Come along."
And seizing my right arm, he hurried me across the road, opened
the door with his latch-key, and in another moment had shut it
swiftly but softly behind us. We stood together in the dark.
Outside, a measured step was approaching; we had heard it through
the fog as we crossed the street; now, as it drew nearer, my
companion's fingers tightened on my arm.
"It may be the chap himself," he whispered. "He's the devil of a
night-bird. Not a sound, Bunny! We'll startle the life out of
him. Ah!"
The measured step had passed without a pause. Raffles drew a deep
breath, and his singular grip of me slowly relaxed.
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