The romance and the peril of the whole
proceeding held me spellbound and entranced. My moral sense and
my sense of fear were stricken by a common paralysis. And there
I stood, shining my light and holding my phial with a keener
interest than I had ever brought to any honest avocation. And
there knelt A. J. Raffles, with his black hair tumbled, and the
same watchful, quiet, determined half-smile with which I have
seen him send down over after over in a county match!
At last the chain of holes was complete, the lock wrenched out
bodily, and a splendid bare arm plunged up to the shoulder
through the aperture, and through the bars of the iron gate
beyond.
"Now," whispered Raffles, "if there's only one lock it'll be in
the middle. Joy! Here it is! Only let me pick it, and we're
through at last."
He withdrew his arm, a skeleton key was selected from the bunch,
and then back went his arm to the shoulder. It was a breathless
moment. I heard the heart throbbing in my body, the very watch
ticking in my pocket, and ever and anon the tinkle-tinkle of the
skeleton key. Then--at last--there came a single unmistakable
click. In another minute the mahogany door and the iron gate
yawned behind us; and Raffles was sitting on an office table,
wiping his face, with the lantern throwing a steady beam by his
side.
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