And now, in addition to the eternal peril17 of recognition, there was yet another menace of which I knew nothing. I thought no more of our Neapolitan organ-grinders, though I did often think of the moving page that they had torn for me out of my friend's strange life in Italy. Raffles never alluded18 to the subject again, and for my part I had entirely19 forgotten his wild ideas connecting the organ-grinders with the Camorra, and imagining them upon his own tracks. I heard no more of it, and thought as little, as I say. Then one night in the autumn—I shrink from shocking the susceptible20 for nothing—but there was a certain house in Palace Gardens, and when we got there Raffles would pass on. I could see no soul in sight, no glimmer22 in the windows. But Raffles had my arm, and on we went without talking about it. Sharp to the left on the Notting Hill side, sharper still up Silver Street, a little tacking23 west and south, a plunge24 across High Street, and presently we were home.
"Pyjamas25 first," said Raffles, with as much authority as though it mattered. It was a warm night, however, though September, and I did not mind until I came in clad as he commanded to find the autocrat26 himself still booted and capped. He was peeping through the blind, and the gas was still turned down. But he said that I could turn it up, as he helped himself to a cigarette and nothing with it.
"May I mix you one?" said I.
"No, thanks."
"What's the trouble?"
"We were followed."
"Never!"
"You never saw it."
"But YOU never looked round."
"I have an eye at the back of each ear, Bunny."
I helped myself and I fear with less moderation than might have been the case a minute before.
"So that was why—"
"That was why," said Raffles, nodding; but he did not smile, and I put down my glass untouched.
"They were following us then!"
"All up Palace Gardens."
"I thought you wound about coming back over the hill."
"Nevertheless, one of them's in the street below at this moment."
No, he was not fooling me. He was very grim. And he had not taken off a thing; perhaps he did not think it worth while.
"Plain clothes?" I sighed, following the sartorial27 train of thought, even to the loathly arrows that had decorated my person once already for a little aeon28. Next time they would give me double. The skilly was in my stomach when I saw Raffles's face.
"Who said it was the police, Bunny?" said he. "It's the Italians. They're only after me; they won't hurt a hair of YOUR head, let alone cropping it! Have a drink, and don't mind me. I shall score them off before I'm done."
"And I'll help you!"
"No, old chap, you won't. This is my own little show. I've known about it for weeks. I first tumbled to it the day those Neapolitans came back with their organs, though I didn't seriously suspect things then; they never came again, those two, they had done their part. That's the Camorra all over, from all accounts. The Count I told you about is pretty high up in it, by the way he spoke29, but there will be grades and grades between him and the organ-grinders. I shouldn't be surprised if he had every low-down Neapolitan ice-creamer in the town upon my tracks! The organization's incredible. Then do you remember the superior foreigner who came to the door a few days afterwards? You said he had velvet30 eyes."
"I never connected him with those two!"
"Of course you didn't, Bunny, so you threatened to kick the fellow downstairs, and only made them keener on the scent31. It was too late to say anything when you told me. But the very next time I showed my nose outside I heard a camera click as I passed, and the fiend was a person with velvet eyes. Then there was a lull—that happened weeks ago. They had sent me to Italy for identification by Count Corbucci."
"But this is all theory," I exclaimed. "How on earth can you know?"
"I don't know," said Raffles, "but I should like to bet. Our friend the bloodhound is hanging about the corner near the pillar-box; look through my window, it's dark in there, and tell me who he is."
The man was too far away for me to swear to his face, but he wore a covert-coat of un-English length, and the lamp across the road played steadily32 on his boots; they were very yellow, and they made no noise when he took a turn. I strained my eyes, and all at once I remembered the thin-soled, low-heeled, splay yellow boots of the insidious33 foreigner, with the soft eyes and the brown-paper face, whom I had turned from the door as a palpable fraud. The ring at the bell was the first I had heard of him, there had been no warning step upon the stairs, and my suspicious eye had searched his feet for rubber soles.
"It's the fellow," I said, returning to Raffles, and I described his boots.
Raffles was delighted.
"Well done, Bunny; you're coming on," said he. "Now I wonder if he's been over here all the time, or if they sent him over expressly? You did better than you think in spotting those boots, for they can only have been made in Italy, and that looks like the special envoy34. But it's no use speculating. I must find out."
"How can you?"
"He won't stay there all night."
"Well?"
"When he gets tired of it I shall return the compliment and follow HIM."
"Not alone," said I, firmly.
"Well, we'll see. We'll see at once," said Raffles, rising. "Out with the gas, Bunny, while I take a look. Thank you. Now wait a bit ... yes! He's chucked it; he's off already; and so am I!"
But I slipped to our outer door, and held the passage.
"I don't let you go alone, you know."
"You can't come with me in pyjamas."
"Now I see why you made me put them on!"
"Bunny, if you don't shift I shall have to shift you. This is my very own private one-man show. But I'll be back in an hour—there!"
"You swear?"
"By all my gods."
I gave in. How could I help giving in? He did not look the man that he had been, but you never knew with Raffles, and I could not have him lay a hand on me. I let him go with a shrug35 and my blessing36, then ran into his room to see the last of him from the window.
The creature in the coat and boots had reached the end of our little street, where he appeared to have hesitated, so that Raffles was just in time to see which way he turned. And Raffles was after him at an easy pace, and had himself almost reached the corner when my attention was distracted from the alert nonchalance37 of his gait. I was marvelling38 that it alone had not long ago betrayed him, for nothing about him was so unconsciously characteristic, when suddenly I realized that Raffles was not the only person in the little lonely street. Another pedestrian had entered from the other end, a man heavily built and clad, with an astrakhan collar to his coat on this warm night, and a black slouch hat that hid his features from my bird's-eye view. His steps were the short and shuffling39 ones of a man advanced in years and in fatty degeneration, but of a sudden they stopped beneath my very eyes. I could have dropped a marble into the dinted crown of the black felt hat. Then, at the same moment, Raffles turned the corner without looking round, and the big man below raised both his hands and his face. Of the latter I saw only the huge white moustache, like a flying gull40, as Raffles had described it; for at a glance I divined that this was his arch-enemy, the Count Corbucci himself.
I did not stop to consider the subtleties41 of the system by which the real hunter lagged behind while his subordinate pointed42 the quarry43 like a sporting dog. I left the Count shuffling onward44 faster than before, and I jumped into some clothes as though the flats were on fire. If the Count was going to follow Raffles in his turn, then I would follow the Count in mine, and there would be a midnight procession of us through the town. But I found no sign of him in the empty street, and no sign in the Earl's Court Road, that looked as empty for all its length, save for a natural enemy standing45 like a waxwork46 figure with a glimmer at his belt.
The unlicked cub48 of a common constable49 seemed to eye me the more suspiciously for the flattering form of my address.
"Took a hansom," said he at length.
A hansom! Then he was not following the others on foot; there was no guessing his game. But something must be said or done.
"He's a friend of mine," I explained, "and I want to overtake him. Did you hear where he told the fellow to drive?"
A curt50 negative was the policeman's reply to that; and if ever I take part in a night assault-at-arms, revolver versus51 baton52, in the back kitchen, I know which member of the Metropolitan53 Police Force I should like for my opponent.
If there was no overtaking the Count, however, it should be a comparatively simple matter in the case of the couple on foot, and I wildly hailed the first hansom that crawled into my ken2. I must tell Raffles who it was that I had seen; the Earl's Court Road was long, and the time since he vanished in it but a few short minutes. I drove down the length of that useful thoroughfare, with an eye apiece on either pavement, sweeping54 each as with a brush, but never a Raffles came into the pan. Then I tried the Fulham Road, first to the west, then to the east, and in the end drove home to the flat as bold as brass55. I did not realize my indiscretion until I had paid the man and was on the stairs. Raffles never dreamt of driving all the way back; but I was hoping now to find him waiting up above. He had said an hour. I had remembered it suddenly. And now the hour was more than up. But the flat was as empty as I had left it; the very light that had encouraged me, pale though it was, as I turned the corner in my hansom, was but the light that I myself had left burning in the desolate56 passage.
I can give you no conception of the night that I spent. Most of it I hung across the sill, throwing a wide net with my ears, catching57 every footstep afar off, every hansom bell farther still, only to gather in some alien whom I seldom even landed in our street. Then I would listen at the door.
He might come over the roof; and eventually some one did; but now it was broad daylight, and I flung the door open in the milkman's face, which whitened at the shock as though I had ducked him in his own pail.
"You're late," I thundered as the first excuse for my excitement.
"Beg your pardon," said he, indignantly, "but I'm half an hour before my usual time."
"Then I beg yours," said I; "but the fact is, Mr. Maturin has had one of his bad nights, and I seem to have been waiting hours for milk to make him a cup of tea."
This little fib (ready enough for Raffles, though I say it) earned me not only forgiveness but that obliging sympathy which is a branch of the business of the man at the door. The good fellow said that he could see I had been sitting up all night, and he left me pluming58 myself upon the accidental art with which I had told my very necessary tarra-diddle. On reflection I gave the credit to instinct, not accident, and then sighed afresh as I realized how the influence of the master was sinking into me, and he Heaven knew where! But my punishment was swift to follow, for within the hour the bell rang imperiously twice, and there was Dr. Theobald on our mat; in a yellow Jaeger suit, with a chin as yellow jutting59 over the flaps that he had turned up to hide his pyjamas.
"What's this about a bad night?" said he.
"He couldn't sleep, and he wouldn't let me," I whispered, never loosening my grasp of the door, and standing tight against the other wall. "But he's sleeping like a baby now."
"I must see him."
"He gave strict orders that you should not."
"I'm his medical man, and I—"
"You know what he is," I said, shrugging; "the least thing wakes him, and you will if you insist on seeing him now. It will be the last time, I warn you! I know what he said, and you don't."
"And I shall tie up the bell," I said, "and if it doesn't ring he'll be sleeping still, but I will not risk waking him by coming to the door again."
And with that I shut it in his face. I was improving, as Raffles had said; but what would it profit me if some evil had befallen him? And now I was prepared for the worst. A boy came up whistling and leaving papers on the mats; it was getting on for eight o'clock, and the whiskey and soda62 of half-past twelve stood untouched and stagnant63 in the tumbler. If the worst had happened to Raffles, I felt that I would either never drink again, or else seldom do anything else.
Meanwhile I could not even break my fast, but roamed the flat in a misery64 not to be described, my very linen65 still unchanged, my cheeks and chin now tawny66 from the unwholesome night. How long would it go on? I wondered for a time. Then I changed my tune67: how long could I endure it?
It went on actually until the forenoon only, but my endurance cannot be measured by the time, for to me every hour of it was an arctic night. Yet it cannot have been much after eleven when the ring came at the bell, which I had forgotten to tie up after all. But this was not the doctor; neither, too well I knew, was it the wanderer returned. Our bell was the pneumatic one that tells you if the touch be light or heavy; the hand upon it now was tentative and shy.
The owner of the hand I had never seen before. He was young and ragged68, with one eye blank, but the other ablaze69 with some fell excitement. And straightway he burst into a low torrent70 of words, of which all I knew was that they were Italian, and therefore news of Raffles, if only I had known the language! But dumb-show might help us somewhat, and in I dragged him, though against his will, a new alarm in his one wild eye.
"Non capite?" he cried when I had him inside and had withstood the torrent.
"No, I'm bothered if I do!" I answered, guessing his question from his tone.
For once in my life the classical education of my public-school days was of real value. "My pal21, my pal, and no time to be lost!" I translated freely, and flew for my hat.
"Ecco, signore!" cried the fellow, snatching the watch from my waistcoat pocket, and putting one black thumb-nail on the long hand, the other on he numeral twelve. "Mezzogiorno—poco tempo—poco tempo!" And again I seized his meaning, that it was twenty past eleven, and we must be there by twelve. But where, but where? It was maddening to be summoned like this, and not to know what had happened, nor to have any means of finding out. But my presence of mind stood by me still, I was improving by seven-league strides, and I crammed72 my handkerchief between the drum and hammer of the bell before leaving. The doctor could ring now till he was black in the face, but I was not coming, and he need not think it.
I half expected to find a hansom waiting, but there was none, and we had gone some distance down the Earl's Court Road before we got one; in fact, we had to run to the stand. Opposite is the church with the clock upon it, as everybody knows, and at sight of the dial my companion had wrung73 his hands; it was close upon the half-hour.
"Poco tempo—pochissimo!" he wailed74. "Bloom-buree Ske-warr," he then cried to the cabman—"numero trentotto!"
"Bloomsbury Square," I roared on my own account, "I'll show you the house when we get there, only drive like be-damned!"
My companion lay back gasping75 in his corner. The small glass told me that my own face was pretty red.
"A nice show!" I cried; "and not a word can you tell me. Didn't you bring me a note?"
I might have known by this time that he had not, still I went through the pantomime of writing with my finger on my cuff76. But he shrugged77 and shook his head.
"Niente," said he. "Una quistione di vita, di vita!"
"What's that?" I snapped, my early training come in again. "Say it slowly—andante—rallentando."
Thank Italy for the stage instructions in the songs one used to murder! The fellow actually understood.
"Una—quistione—di—vita."
"Or mors, eh?" I shouted, and up went the trap-door over our heads.
"Avanti, avanti, avanti!" cried the Italian, turning up his one-eyed face.
"Hell-to-leather," I translated, "and double fare if you do it by twelve o'clock."
But in the streets of London how is one to know the time? In the Earl's Court Road it had not been half-past, and at Barker's in High Street it was but a minute later. A long half-mile a minute, that was going like the wind, and indeed we had done much of it at a gallop78. But the next hundred yards took us five minutes by the next clock, and which was one to believe? I fell back upon my own old watch (it was my own), which made it eighteen minutes to the hour as we swung across the Serpentine79 bridge, and by the quarter we were in the Bayswater Road—not up for once.
"Ten bob if you do it," I cried through the trap, without the slightest notion of what we were to do. But it was "una quistione di vita," and "vostro amico" must and could only be my miserable81 Raffles.
What a very godsend is the perfect hansom to the man or woman in a hurry! It had been our great good fortune to jump into a perfect hansom; there was no choice, we had to take the first upon the rank, but it must have deserved its place with the rest nowhere. New tires, superb springs, a horse in a thousand, and a driver up to every trick of his trade! In and out we went like a fast half-back at the Rugby game, yet where the traffic was thinnest, there were we. And how he knew his way! At the Marble Arch he slipped out of the main stream, and so into Wigmore Street, then up and in and out and on until I saw the gold tips of the Museum palisade gleaming between the horse's ears in the sun. Plop, plop, plop; ting, ling, ling; bell and horse-shoes, horse-shoes and bell, until the colossal82 figure of C. J. Fox in a grimy toga spelt Bloomsbury Square with my watch still wanting three minutes to the hour.
"What number?" cried the good fellow over-head.
"Trentotto, trentotto," said my guide, but he was looking to the right, and I bundled him out to show the house on foot. I had not half-a-sovereign after all, but I flung our dear driver a whole one instead, and only wish that it had been a hundred.
Already the Italian had his latch-key in the door of 38, and in another moment we were rushing up the narrow stairs of as dingy83 a London house as prejudiced countryman can conceive. It was panelled, but it was dark and evil-smelling, and how we should have found our way even to the stairs but for an unwholesome jet of yellow gas in the hall, I cannot myself imagine. However, up we went pell-mell, to the right-about on the half-landing, and so like a whirlwind into the drawing-room a few steps higher. There the gas was also burning behind closed shutters84, and the scene is photographed upon my brain, though I cannot have looked upon it for a whole instant as I sprang in at my leader's heels.
This room also was panelled, and in the middle of the wall on our left, his hands lashed85 to a ring-bolt high above his head, his toes barely touching86 the floor, his neck pinioned87 by a strap88 passing through smaller ring-bolts under either ear, and every inch of him secured on the same principle, stood, or rather hung, all that was left of Raffles, for at the first glance I believed him dead. A black ruler gagged him, the ends lashed behind his neck, the blood upon it caked to bronze in the gaslight. And in front of him, ticking like a sledge-hammer, its only hand upon the stroke of twelve, stood a simple, old-fashioned, grandfather's clock—but not for half an instant longer—only until my guide could hurl89 himself upon it and send the whole thing crashing into the corner. An ear-splitting report accompanied the crash, a white cloud lifted from the fallen clock, and I saw a revolver smoking in a vice90 screwed below the dial, an arrangement of wires sprouting91 from the dial itself, and the single hand at once at its zenith and in contact with these.
"Tumble to it, Bunny?"
He was alive; these were his first words; the Italian had the blood-caked ruler in his hand, and with his knife was reaching up to cut the thongs92 that lashed the hands. He was not tall enough, I seized him and lifted him up, then fell to work with my own knife upon the straps93. And Raffles smiled faintly upon us through his blood-stains.
"I want you to tumble to it," he whispered; "the neatest thing in revenge I ever knew, and another minute would have fixed94 it. I've been waiting for it twelve hours, watching the clock round, death at the end of the lap! Electric connection. Simple enough. Hour-hand only—O Lord!"
We had cut the last strap. He could not stand. We supported him between us to a horsehair sofa, for the room was furnished, and I begged him not to speak, while his one-eyed deliverer was at the door before Raffles recalled him with a sharp word in Italian.
"He wants to get me a drink, but that can wait," said he, in firmer voice; "I shall enjoy it the more when I've told you what happened. Don't let him go, Bunny; put your back against the door. He's a decent soul, and it's lucky for me I got a word with him before they trussed me up. I've promised to set him up in life, and I will, but I don't want him out of my sight for the moment."
"If you squared him last night," I exclaimed, "why the blazes didn't he come to me till the eleventh hour?"
"Ah, I knew he'd have to cut it fine though I hoped not quite so fine as all that. But all's well that ends well, and I declare I don't feel so much the worse. I shall be sore about the gills for a bit—and what do you think?"
He pointed to the long black ruler with the bronze stain; it lay upon the floor; he held out his hand for it, and I gave it to him.
"The same one I gagged him with," said Raffles, with his still ghastly smile; "he was a bit of an artist, old Corbucci, after all!"
"Now let's hear how you fell into his clutches," said I, briskly, for I was as anxious to hear as he seemed to tell me, only for my part I could have waited until we were safe in the flat.
"I do want to get it off my chest, Bunny," old Raffles admitted, "and yet I hardly can tell you after all. I followed your friend with the velvet eyes. I followed him all the way here. Of course I came up to have a good look at the house when he'd let himself in, and damme if he hadn't left the door ajar! Who could resist that? I had pushed it half open and had just one foot on the mat when I got such a crack on the head as I hope never to get again. When I came to my wits they were hauling me up to that ring-bolt by the hands, and old Corbucci himself was bowing to me, but how HE got here I don't know yet."
"I can tell you that," said I, and told how I had seen the Count for myself on the pavement underneath95 our windows. "Moreover," I continued, "I saw him spot you, and five minutes after in Earl's Court Road I was told he'd driven off in a cab. He would see you following his man, drive home ahead, and catch you by having the door left open in the way you describe."
"Well," said Raffles, "he deserved to catch me somehow, for he'd come from Naples on purpose, ruler and all, and the ring-bolts were ready fixed, and even this house taken furnished for nothing else! He meant catching me before he'd done, and scoring me off in exactly the same way that I scored off him, only going one better of course. He told me so himself, sitting where I am sitting now, at three o'clock this morning, and smoking a most abominable96 cigar that I've smelt97 ever since. It appears he sat twenty-four hours when I left HIM trussed up, but he said twelve would content him in my case, as there was certain death at the end of them, and I mightn't have life enough left to appreciate my end if he made it longer. But I wouldn't have trusted him if he could have got the clock to go twice round without firing off the pistol. He explained the whole mechanism98 of that to me; he had thought it all out on the vineyard I told you about; and then he asked if I remembered what he had promised me in the name of the Camorra. I only remembered some vague threats, but he was good enough to give me so many particulars of that institution that I could make a European reputation by exposing the whole show if it wasn't for my unfortunate resemblance to that infernal rascal99 Raffles. Do you think they would know me at the Yard, Bunny, after all this time? Upon my soul I've a good mind to risk it!"
I offered no opinion on the point. How could it interest me then? But interested I was in Raffles, never more so in my life. He had been tortured all night and half a day, yet he could sit and talk like this the moment we cut him down; he had been within a minute of his death, yet he was as full of life as ever; ill-treated and defeated at the best, he could still smile through his blood as though the boot were on the other leg. I had imagined that I knew my Raffles at last. I was not likely so to flatter myself again.
"But what has happened to these villains100?" I burst out, and my indignation was not only against them for their cruelty, but also against their victim for his phlegmatic101 attitude toward them. It was difficult to believe that this was Raffles.
"Oh," said he, "they were to go off to Italy INSTANTER; they should be crossing now. But do listen to what I am telling you; it's interesting, my dear man. This old sinner Corbucci turns out to have been no end of a boss in the Camorra—says so himself. One of the capi paranze, my boy, no less; and the velvety102 Johnny a giovano onorato, Anglice, fresher. This fellow here was also in it, and I've sworn to protect him from them evermore; and it's just as I said, half the organ-grinders in London belong, and the whole lot of them were put on my tracks by secret instructions. This excellent youth manufactures iced poison on Saffron Hill when he's at home."
"And why on earth didn't he come to me quicker?"
"Because he couldn't talk to you, he could only fetch you, and it was as much as his life was worth to do that before our friends had departed. They were going by the eleven o'clock from Victoria, and that didn't leave much chance, but he certainly oughtn't to have run it as fine as he did. Still you must remember that I had to fix things up with him in the fewest possible words, in a single minute that the other two were indiscreet enough to leave us alone together."
The ragamuffin in question was watching us with all his solitary103 eye, as though he knew that we were discussing him. Suddenly he broke out in agonized104 accents, his hands clasped, and a face so full of fear that every moment I expected to see him on his knees. But Raffles answered kindly105, reassuringly106, I could tell from his tone, and then turned to me with a compassionate107 shrug.
"He says he couldn't find the mansions109, Bunny, and really it's not to be wondered at. I had only time to tell him to hunt you up and bring you here by hook or crook110 before twelve to-day, and after all he has done that. But now the poor devil thinks you're riled with him, and that we'll give him away to the Camorra."
"Oh, it's not with him I'm riled," I said frankly, "but with those other blackguards, and—and with you, old chap, for taking it all as you do, while such infamous111 scoundrels have the last laugh, and are safely on their way to France!"
Raffles looked up at me with a curiously112 open eye, an eye that I never saw when he was not in earnest. I fancied he did not like my last expression but one. After all, it was no laughing matter to him.
"But are they?" said he. "I'm not so sure."
"You said they were!"
"I said they should be."
"Didn't you hear them go?"
"I heard nothing but the clock all night. It was like Big Ben striking at the last—striking nine to the fellow on the drop."
"But, my dear old Raffles, if they're still on the premises—"
The thought was too thrilling for a finished sentence.
"I hope they are," he said grimly, going to the door. "There's a gas on! Was that burning when you came in?"
Now that I thought of it, yes, it had been.
"And there's a frightfully foul114 smell," I added, as I followed Raffles down the stairs. He turned to me gravely with his hand upon the front-room door, and at the same moment I saw a coat with an astrakhan collar hanging on the pegs115.
"They are in here, Bunny," he said, and turned the handle.
The door would only open a few inches. But a detestable odor came out, with a broad bar of yellow gaslight. Raffles put his handkerchief to his nose. I followed his example, signing to our ally to do the same, and in another minute we had all three squeezed into the room.
The man with the yellow boots was lying against the door, the Count's great carcass sprawled116 upon the table, and at a glance it was evident that both men had been dead some hours. The old Camorrist had the stem of a liqueur-glass between his swollen117 blue fingers, one of which had been cut in the breakage, and the livid flesh was also brown with the last blood that it would ever shed. His face was on the table, the huge moustache projecting from under either leaden cheek, yet looking itself strangely alive. Broken bread and scraps118 of frozen macaroni lay upon the cloth and at the bottom of two soup-plates and a tureen; the macaroni had a tinge119 of tomato; and there was a crimson120 dram left in the tumblers, with an empty fiasco to show whence it came. But near the great gray head upon the table another liqueur-glass stood, unbroken, and still full of some white and stinking121 liquid; and near that a tiny silver flask122, which made me recoil123 from Raffles as I had not from the dead; for I knew it to be his.
"Come out of this poisonous air," he said sternly, "and I will tell you how it has happened."
So we all three gathered together in the hall. But it was Raffles who stood nearest the street-door, his back to it, his eyes upon us two. And though it was to me only that he spoke at first, he would pause from point to point, and translate into Italian for the benefit of the one-eyed alien to whom he owed his life.
"You probably don't even know the name, Bunny," he began, "of the deadliest poison yet known to science. It is cyanide of cacodyl, and I have carried that small flask of it about with me for months. Where I got it matters nothing; the whole point is that a mere124 sniff125 reduces flesh to clay. I have never had any opinion of suicide, as you know, but I always felt it worth while to be forearmed against the very worst. Well, a bottle of this stuff is calculated to stiffen126 an ordinary roomful of ordinary people within five minutes; and I remembered my flask when they had me as good as crucified in the small hours of this morning. I asked them to take it out of my pocket. I begged them to give me a drink before they left me. And what do you suppose they did?"
I thought of many things but suggested none, while Raffles turned this much of his statement into sufficiently127 fluent Italian. But when he faced me again his face was still flaming.
"That beast Corbucci!" said he—"how can I pity him? He took the flask; he would give me none; he flicked128 me in the face instead. My idea was that he, at least, should go with me—to sell my life as dearly as that—and a sniff would have settled us both. But no, he must tantalize129 and torment130 me; he thought it brandy; he must take it downstairs to drink to my destruction! Can you have any pity for a hound like that?"
"Let us go," I at last said, hoarsely131, as Raffles finished speaking in Italian, and his second listener stood open-mouthed.
"We will go," said Raffles, "and we will chance being seen; if the worst comes to the worst this good chap will prove that I have been tied up since one o'clock this morning, and the medical evidence will decide how long those dogs have been dead."
But the worst did not come to the worst, more power to my unforgotten friend the cabman, who never came forward to say what manner of men he had driven to Bloomsbury Square at top speed on the very day upon which the tragedy was discovered there, or whence he had driven them. To be sure, they had not behaved like murderers, whereas the evidence at the inquest all went to show that the defunct132 Corbucci was little better. His reputation, which transpired133 with his identity, was that of a libertine134 and a renegade, while the infernal apparatus135 upstairs revealed the fiendish arts of the anarchist136 to boot. The inquiry137 resulted eventually in an open verdict, and was chiefly instrumental in killing138 such compassion108 as is usually felt for the dead who die in their sins.
But Raffles would not have passed this title for this tale.
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1
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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5
epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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6
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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raffles
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| n.抽彩售物( raffle的名词复数 )v.以抽彩方式售（物）( raffle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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8
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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9
wielder
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| 行使者 | |
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10
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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11
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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12
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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13
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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14
tactician
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| n. 战术家, 策士 | |
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15
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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17
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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18
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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20
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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21
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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22
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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23
tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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24
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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25
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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26
autocrat
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| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
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27
sartorial
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| adj.裁缝的 | |
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28
aeon
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| n.极长的时间；永久 | |
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29
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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30
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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31
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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32
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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33
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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34
envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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35
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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36
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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37
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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38
marvelling
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的现在分词 ) | |
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39
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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40
gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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41
subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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42
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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43
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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44
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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45
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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46
waxwork
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| n.蜡像 | |
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47
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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48
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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49
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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50
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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51
versus
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| prep.以…为对手，对；与…相比之下 | |
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52
baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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53
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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54
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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55
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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56
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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57
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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58
pluming
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| 用羽毛装饰（plume的现在分词形式） | |
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59
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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60
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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61
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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62
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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63
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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64
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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65
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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66
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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67
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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68
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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69
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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70
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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71
tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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72
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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73
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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74
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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76
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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77
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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78
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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79
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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80
presto
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| adv.急速地；n.急板乐段；adj.急板的 | |
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81
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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82
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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83
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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84
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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85
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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86
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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87
pinioned
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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89
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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90
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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91
sprouting
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| v.发芽( sprout的现在分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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92
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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93
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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94
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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95
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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96
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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97
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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98
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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99
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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100
villains
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| n.恶棍( villain的名词复数 )；罪犯；（小说、戏剧等中的）反面人物；淘气鬼 | |
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101
phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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102
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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103
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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104
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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105
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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106
reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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107
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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108
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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109
mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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110
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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111
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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112
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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113
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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114
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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115
pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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116
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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117
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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118
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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119
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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121
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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122
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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123
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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125
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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126
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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127
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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128
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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129
tantalize
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| vt.使干着急，逗弄 | |
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130
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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132
defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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133
transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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134
libertine
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| n.淫荡者；adj.放荡的，自由思想的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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136
anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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137
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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138
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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