“Put like that, of course—”
“Good man! And now it is almost time for tea.”
We returned to the house, but as soon as we entered, Raffles excused himself and vanished. I realized almost at once that he was starting his “plan,” and in answer to a question from one of the others as to where he was, I made some noncommittal reply. He came into the room ten minutes after tea had been served, full of apologies for his lateness, and telling a charming story of having stopped longer than he had intended to watch a hare playing in the snow!
After tea Raffles pleaded a headache and vanished once more. There was no general movement to follow him upstairs, for it was that curious time that you get only in winter when tea is over but it is too early to think of changing for dinner, and all you want to do is sit in your armchair and gaze at the ever-darkening sky.
It was fully dark, and people were starting to light lamps here and there, and there was a shuffling as we thought of dinner and the attendant preparations, before Raffles turned up again. “Hello!” I said. “Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. I had fallen asleep, but I fancied I heard—” Raffles was standing by the door, having just come in. The rest of us had turned to look at him, as you do when someone enters the room, but as he broke off his sentence and stared down the room at the french window, we all turned back again to follow his gaze and were astounded to see the window standing open and just inside it two large men, both wearing black masks over their faces and both holding revolvers.
I cannot remember who said what. Someone said, “Damn!” and one of the ladies let out a little scream, but mostly we just stood or sat where we were, too surprised to do anything.
One of the men said, “Stay where you are and you won’t get hurt,” which was hardly original, but I suppose there is a set form for these things, and we stayed where we were accordingly, which is what he wanted. The speaker, evidently the leading light in the team, told his mate, “Keep ’em covered while I get the stuff,” and made his way out past Raffles, obviously making for the bedrooms.
“This is deuced awkward,” said Raffles, half to himself.
I stared at him, wondering if he had somehow arranged the whole thing himself. Was this part of his plan? I had not seen him all day, he could easily have gone into the village a mile away and sent a telegram or something. Only his face, a comical mixture of disbelief and chagrin, gave me pause. He caught me looking at him, shrugged, and laughed, much to the amazement of everyone else in the room.
After a very short while, as it seemed to me, there were heavy footsteps outside. The door flew open, and the burglar who had gone upstairs started into the room, pretty clearly in a bad temper. His way was blocked by Raffles, who spoke to him in a low voice. I was nearest to them, and fancied I heard Raffles say some such phrase as “something to your advantage,” but I could not be certain. I am certain that the burglar hesitated a moment, then motioned with his revolver to Raffles to step out into the corridor. The two of them were out there no more than a minute, then they returned, Raffles first, the burglar, his good humour obviously restored, following.
“Anyone who steps outside in the next ten minutes will be shot,” the burglar informed us, and then he and his still silent confederate made their way out through the french window.
“Telephone the police at once!” shouted Morgan to anyone who would listen.
“I think they will have cut the wires,” said Raffles calmly, and this proved to be the truth.
Morgan’s next suggestion was that someone — Raffles, me, the JP, the editor, the butler — should follow, for, as he said, “The — s won’t be out there! They’ve made good their escape by now! It was an empty threat! There’s not the slightest danger!”
“In that case,” said the editor, speaking for the first time in my presence since I had been introduced to him, “in that case, why don’t you go out there?”
Morgan subsided at that. But only for a moment, and then he demanded angrily of Raffles, “What the devil did you say to that chap?”
“Oh,” said Raffles easily, “I merely said that since he had Mrs. Morgan’s diamonds — that was what they came for, of course — there was no need to bother with things like our cuff links and signet rings. It would waste some considerable time, and they are really worth so little.” Morgan snorted angrily at this, but Raffles went on just as calmly as ever, “And I persuaded him to leave Miss Cynthia’s pearls with me,” and he produced the string from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Raffles! They’re not valuable, I know, but they were my mother’s.” And she put them round her lovely neck.
“And now,” said Raffles cheerfully, “I think the rest of you should check your belongings. They have the diamonds, and I strongly suspect they have Lady Whitechurch’s emeralds — catch her, someone!” he added, as the lady fainted on hearing this “but I couldn’t say what else they might have taken.”
Morgan made a gurgling noise and rushed out, returning a moment later to gasp, “The — s have rifled the safe!”
“Only to be expected,” said Raffles, adding casually, “Anything valuable gone?”
Morgan choked and turned purple.
After ten minutes — and ten minutes seems an awfully long time under those circumstances — we did go outside, and of course the crooks were long gone. Then the butler had to go into the village for the local constable, who had to telephone the sergeant, who had to call Scotland Yard. I think there is no need to describe the comings and goings, the questions and answers. The police seemed convinced that the two men were that gang that had committed the other robberies round about, and none of us seemed disposed to contradict that view.
It was not until the early hours of the morning that anyone managed to think about bed. I pushed Raffles into his room and shut the door firmly. “What did go on between you and that burglar chap?” I asked him. “Was he part of your plan?”
“Do you suspect that I lied, then?”
I looked for a weapon, but found only Raffles’s silver-backed hairbrush. “I could mark you with this, though,” I told him.
He laughed and lit a cigarette. “Well, then. No, he and his mate were most definitely not part of my plan. In fact, I was never more startled in my life than when they walked through that French window! As for what I said, I simply told him that I knew he had not found Mrs. Morgan’s diamonds.”
“Oh? And—”
“I knew that,” he said patiently, “because of course I had taken them myself, about ten minutes earlier.”
“Oh!”
“I confessed my crime, but said that rather than face exposure and social ruin I would surrender my spoils.”
“And you did?”
“Oh, yes. But I really did ask him to leave Miss Cynthia’s pearls, and he agreed. Said he’d only taken them because there was nothing else remotely of value upstairs or in the safe.”
“So he did crack the safe? I thought that might have been you! He must have recognized the fake for what it was, which is logical, I suppose, him being an expert as it were.” I caught Raffles’s cynical eye upon me as I burbled on, and asked, “Wait, though — what about the emeralds? Did he not take those?”
“I took those at the same time as I took the diamonds, of course. Be sensible, Bunny!”
“And you still have the emeralds?”
“Oh, yes. The burglars didn’t know about those, you see, it was the Morgan diamonds they were after.”
“Well, we have something out of it,” I said grudgingly. “A pity you had to hand the diamonds over!”
“Bunny, my Bunny! I did not hand the diamonds over, as you so engagingly put it.”