'Mackenzie's?'
'Yes!'
I had seen it in his face.
'After us already?'
'God knows! Not necessarily; they watch the ports after a big murder.'
'Swagger detectives from Scotland Yard?'
Raffles did not answer; he had something else to do. Already he was turning his pockets inside out. A false beard rolled off the seat.
'That's for you,' he said as I picked it up. 'I'll finish making you up.' He was busy on himself in one of the oblong mirrors, kneeling on the cushions to be near his work. 'If it's a scent at all it must be a pretty hot one, Bunny, to have landed him in the very train and coach! But it mayn't be as bad as it looked at first sight. He can't have much to go upon yet. If he's only going to shadow us while they find out more at home, we shall give him the slip all right.'
'Do you think he saw you?'
'Looking out? No, thank goodness, he was looking toward Dover too.'
'But before we started?'
'No, Bunny, I don't believe he came aboard before Cannon Street. I remember hearing a bit of a fuss there. But our blinds were down, thank God!'
They were all down now, but by our decreasing speed I felt that we were already gliding over level crossings to the admiration of belated townsfolk waiting at the gates. Raffles turned from his mirror, and I from mine, simultaneously; and even to my initiated eye it was not Raffles at all, but another noble scamp who even in those days before the war was the observed of all observers about town.
'It's ever so much better than anonymous disguises,' said Raffles, as he went to work upon me with his pocket make-up box and his lightning touch. 'I was always rather like him, and I tried him on yesterday with such success at the bank that I certainly can't do better to-night. As for you, Bunny, if you slouch your hat and stick your beard in your bread basket, you ought to pass for a poor relation or a disreputable dun. But here we are, my lad, and now for Meester Mackenzie o' Scoteland Yarrd!'
The gaunt detective was in fact the first person we beheld upon the pier platform; raw-boned, stiff-jointed, and more than middle-aged, he must nevertheless have jumped out once again before the train stopped, and that almost on top of a diminutive telegraph boy, who was waiting while the old hound read his telegram with one eye and watched emerging passengers with both. Whether we should have passed him unobserved I cannot say. We could but have tried; but Raffles preferred to grasp the nettle and salute Mackenzie with a pleasant nod.
'Good evening, my lord!' says the Scotchman with a canny smirk.
'I can guess why you're down here,' says Raffles, actually producing a palpable Sullivan under the nose of the law.
'Is that a fact?' inquires the other, oiling the rebuff with deferential grin.
'And I mustn't stand between you and poor Dan Levy's murderer,' adds my lord, nodding finally, when Mackenzie steps after him to my horror. But it is only to show Raffles his telegram. And he does not follow us on board.
Neither did our disguises accompany our countenances across the Channel. It was at dead of night on the upper deck (whence all but us had fled) that Raffles showed me how to doff my beard and still look as though I had merely buttoned it inside my overcoat; meanwhile his own moustachios and imperial were disappearing by discreet degrees; and at last he told me why, though not by any means without pressing.
'I'm only afraid you'll want to turn straight back from Calais, Bunny!'
'Oh, no, I shan't.'
'You'll come with me round the world, so to speak?'
'To its uttermost ends, A. J.!'
'You do know now who it really is that I don't want to see again just yet?'
'Yes. I know. Now tell me what Mackenzie told you.'
'It was all in the wire he showed me,' said Raffles. 'The wire was to say that the murderer of Dan Levy had given himself up to the police!'
Profane expletives flew from my lips; those of much holier men might have been no less unguardedly emphatic in the self-same circumstances.
'But who was it?'
'I could have told you all along if you hadn't suspected me.'
'It wasn't a suspicion, Raffles. It was never more than a dread, and I didn't even dread it in my heart of hearts. Do tell me now.'
Raffles watched the red end of a ruined Sullivan make a fine trajectory as it flew to leeward between sea and stars.
'It was that poor unlucky little alien who was waiting for him the other morning in Jermyn Street, and again last night near his own garden gate. That's where he got him in the end. But it wasn't a shooting case at all, Bunny; that's why I never heard anything. It was a case of stabbing in accordance with the best traditions of the Latin races.'
'God forgive both poor devils!' said I at last.
'And other two,' said Raffles, 'who have rather more to be forgiven.'
CHAPTER XIX
Apologia
On one of the worst days of last year, to wit the first day of the Eton and Harrow match, I had turned into the Hamman, in Jermyn Street, as the best available asylum for wet boots that might no longer enter any club. Mine had been removed by a little pinchbeck oriental in the outer courts, and I wandered within unpleasantly conscious of a hole in one sock, to find myself by no means the only obvious refugee from the rain. The bath was in fact inconveniently crowded. But at length I found a divan to suit me in an upstairs alcove. I had the choice indeed of more than one; but in spite of my antecedents I am fastidious about my cooling companions in a Turkish bath, and it was by no accident that I hung my clothes opposite to a newer morning coat and a pair of trousers more decisively creased than my own.
But the coincidence in pickle was no less remarkable. In ensuing stages of physical devastation one had dim glimpses of a not unfamiliar, reddish countenance; but with the increment of years it has been my lot to contract short sight as well as incipient obesity, and in the hot rooms my glasses lose their grip upon my nose. So it was not until I lay swathed upon my divan that I recognised E.M. Garland in the fine fresh-faced owner of the nice clothes opposite mine. A tawny moustache rather spoilt him as Phoebus, and there was a hint of old gold about the shaven jaw and chin; but I never saw better looks of the unintellectual order; and the amber eye was as clear as ever, the great strong wicket-keeper's hand unexpectedly hearty, when recognition dawned on Teddy in his turn.
He spoke of Raffles without hesitation or reserve, and of me and my Raffles writings as though there was nothing reprehensible in one or the other, displaying indeed a flattering knowledge of those pious memorials.
'But of course I take them with a grain of salt,' said Teddy Garland; 'you don't make me believe you were either of you such desperate dogs as all that. I can't see you climbing ropes or squirming through scullery windows—even for the fun of the thing!' he added with somewhat tardy tact.
It is certainly rather hard to credit now. I felt that after all there was something to be said for being too fat at forty, and that Teddy Garland had said it excellently.
'Now,' he continued, 'if only you would give us the row between Raffles and Dan Levy, I mean the whole battle royal that A.J. fought and won for me and my poor father, that would be something like! The world would see the sort of chap he really was.'
'I am afraid it would have to see the sort of chaps we all were just then,' said I, as I still think with exemplary delicacy; but Teddy lay silent and florid for some time. These athletes have their vanity. But this one rose superior to his.
