Come on!"
Instead I laid a hand upon his arm, imploring him to
reflect--that his enemy was dead now--that we should certainly
be involved--that now or never was our own time to escape. He
shook me off in a sudden fury of impatience, a reckless contempt
in his eyes, and, bidding me save my own skin if I liked, he once
more turned his back upon me, and this time left me half resolved
to take him at his word. Had he forgotten on what errand he
himself was here? Was he determined that this night should end
in black disaster? As I asked myself these questions his match
flared in the hall; in another moment the stairs were creaking
under his feet, even as they had creaked under those of the
murderer; and the humane instinct that inspired him in defiance
of his risk was borne in also upon my slower sensibilities.
Could we let the murderer go? My answer was to bound up the
creaking stairs and to overhaul Raffles on the landing.
But three doors presented themselves; the first opened into a
bedroom with the bed turned down but undisturbed; the second room
was empty in every sense; the third door was locked.
Raffles lit the landing gas.
"He's in there," said he, cocking his revolver. "Do you remember
how we used to break into the studies at school? Here goes!"
His flat foot crashed over the keyhole, the lock gave, the door
flew open, and in the sudden draught the landing gas heeled over
like a cobble in a squall; as the flame righted itself I saw a
fixed bath, two bath-towels knotted together--an open window--a
cowering figure--and Raffles struck aghast on the threshold.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139