Every article of
value was gone from the one place which was invisible from the
little window in the door; elsewhere all was as it had been left
overnight. And but for a train of mangled doors behind the iron
curtain, a bottle of wine and a cigar-box with which liberties
had been taken, a rather black towel in the lavatory, a burnt
match here and there, and our finger-marks on the dusty
banisters, not a trace of our visit did we leave.
"Had it in my head for long?" said Raffles, as we strolled
through the streets towards dawn, for all the world as though we
were returning from a dance. "No, Bunny, I never thought of it
till I saw that upper part empty about a month ago, and bought a
few things in the shop to get the lie of the land. That reminds
me that I never paid for them; but, by Jove, I will to-morrow,
and if that isn't poetic justice, what is? One visit showed me
the possibilities of the place, but a second convinced me of its
impossibilities without a pal. So I had practically given up the
idea, when you came along on the very night and in the very
plight for it! But here we are at the Albany, and I hope there's
some fire left; for I don't know how you feel, Bunny, but for my
part I'm as cold as Keats's owl."
He could think of Keats on his way from a felony! He could
hanker for his fireside like another! Floodgates were loosed
within me, and the plain English of our adventure rushed over me
as cold as ice.
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