We had been seated some minutes when Big Ben sent a languid chime over our heads to the stars. It was half-past ten, and a sultry night. Eleven had struck before Raffles awoke from his sullen reverie, and recalled me from mine with a slap on the back. In a couple of minutes we were in the lighted vestibule at the inner end of the courtyard of King John’s Mansions.
“Just left Lord Ernest at Lady Kirkleatham’s,” said Raffles. “Gave me his key and asked us to wait for him in his rooms. Will you send us up in the lift?”
In a small way, I never knew old Raffles do anything better. There was not an instant’s demur. Lord Ernest Belville’s rooms were at the top of the building, but we were in them as quickly as lift could carry and page-boy conduct us. And there was no need for the skeleton key after all; the boy opened the outer door with one of his own, and switched on the lights before leaving us.
“Now that’s interesting,” said Raffles, as soon as we were alone; “they can come in and clean when he is out. What if he keeps his swag at the bank? By Jove, that’s an idea for him! I don’t believe he’s getting rid of it; it’s all lying low somewhere, if I’m not mistaken, and he’s not a fool.”
While he spoke he was moving about the sitting-room, which was charmingly furnished in the antique style, and making as many remarks as though he were an auctioneer’s clerk with an inventory to prepare and a day to do it in, instead of a cracksman who might be surprised in his crib at any moment.
“Chippendale of sorts, eh, Bunny? Not genuine, of course; but where can you get genuine Chippendale now, and who knows it when they see it? There’s no merit in mere antiquity. Yet the way people pose on the subject! If a thing’s handsome and useful, and good cabinet-making, it’s good enough for me.”
“Hadn’t we better explore the whole place?” I suggested nervously. He had not even bolted the outer door. Nor would he when I called his attention to the omission.
“If Lord Ernest finds his rooms locked up he’ll raise Cain,” said Raffles; “we must let him come in and lock up for himself before we corner him. But he won’t come yet; if he did it might be awkward, for they’d tell him down below what I told them. A new staff comes on at midnight. I discovered that the other night.”
“Supposing he does come in before?”
“Well, he can’t have us turned out without first seeing who we are, and he won’t try it on when I’ve had one word with him. Unless my suspicions are unfounded, I mean.”