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To the MEMORY or
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M.D., D.C.L., LL.D.
First DIREctor or
THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
who BY His Foresicht enercy AND
ADMINIstrative Ability
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From the Library of EDMUND LESTER PEARson











-
BY A. CONAN DOYLE
THE DoINGs of RAFFLEs HAw
DANGER! AND OTHER StoRIEs
HIS LAST Bow
THE WALLEY OF FEAR
THE POISON BELT .
THE LOST WORLD
THE WITAL MEssage.
THE NEW REVELATION
A HISTORY OF THE GREAT WAR
THE GERMAN WAR
THE CASE of OsCAR SLATER
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY


THE DOINGS OF
RAF FLES HAW
AND OTHER STORIES
*…* BY
º
Sº A. CONAN DOYLE
AUTHOR of “DANGER,” “HIS LAST Bow,”
“THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK
Holmes,” ETC.
NEW @ YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
wº


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Tilſ, NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
959245A
Astop, LERex And
TILLEN Ful:NDATIONS
r 1933 1.
COPYRIGHT, 1891, 1919,
BY A. CONAN DOYLE


:
º
CONTENTS
I
THE Donngs of RAFFIEs HAw .
II
THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE . .
III
THE Boscommer WALLEY MYSTERY .





THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW





4. THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
caught the light so richly upon its shoulder. In his
mouth only there was something, a suspicion of coarse-
ness, a possibility of weakness, which in the eyes of
some, and of his sister among them, marred the grace
and beauty of his features. Yet, as he was wont him-
self to say, when one thinks that each poor mortal is heir
to a legacy of every evil trait or bodily taint of so vast a
1ine of ancestors, lucky indeed is the man who does
not find that nature has scored up some long-owing
family debt upon his features.
And indeed in this case the remorseless creditor had
gone so far as to exact a claim from the lady also,
though in her case the extreme beauty of the upper part
of the face drew the eye away from any weakness which
might be found in the lower. She was darker than
her brother, so dark that her heavily-coiled hair
seemed to be black until the light shone slantwise
across it. The delicate half-petulant features, the finely
traced brows, and the thoughtful humorous eyes were
all perfect in their way, and yet the combination left
something to be desired. There was a vague sense of a
flaw somewhere in feature or in expression, which re-
solved itself, when analyzed, in a slight out-turning and
droop of the lower lip, small indeed, and yet pronounced
enough to turn what would have been a beautiful face
into a merely pretty one. Very despondent and some-
what cross she looked as she leaned back in the arm-
chair, a tangle of bright-colored silks and of drab hol-
land upon her lap, her hands clasped behind her head,
with her snowy forearms and little pink elbows pro-
jecting on either side.
“I know he won't come,” she repeated.
“Nonsense, Laural Of course he'll come. A sailor
and afraid of the weather l "
t


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HATW. 5
“Hal” She raised her finger, and a smile of triumph
played over her face, only to die away again into a blank
look of disappointment. “It is only papa,” she mur-
mured.
A shuffling step was heard in the hall, and a little
peaky man, with his slippers very much down at the
heels, came shambling into the room. Mr. McIntyre,
sen., was pale and furtive-looking, with a thin strag-
gling red beard shot with grey, and a sunken downcast
face. Ill-fortune and ill-health had both left their
marks upon him. Ten years before he had been one of
the largest and richest gunmakers in Birmingham, but
a long run of commercial bad luck had sapped his great
fortune, and had finally driven him into the Bank-
ruptcy Court. The death of his wife on the very day of
his insolvency had filled his cup of sorrow, and he had
gone about since with a stunned, half-dazed expression
upon his weak pallid face which spoke of a mind un-
hinged. So complete had been his downfall that the
family would have been reduced to absolute poverty
were it not for a small legacy of two-hundred a year
which both the children had received from one of their
uncles upon the mother's side who had amassed a
fortune in Australia. By combining their incomes,
and by taking a house in the quiet country district
of Tamfield, some fourteen miles from the great Mid-
land city, they were still able to live with some ap-
proach to comfort. The change, however, was a bitter
one to all—to Robert, who had to forego the luxuries
dear to his artistic temperament, and to think of turn-
ing what had been merely an overruling hobby into a
means of earning a living; and even more to Laura,
who winced before the pity of her old friends, and
found the lanes and fields of Tamfield intolerably


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. ſ
“I think, Robert,” he said, disregarding his daugh-
ter's protest, “that I will have a drop, just the very
smallest possible drop, of brandy. A mere thimbleful
will do, but I rather think I have caught cold during
the snowstorm to-day.”
Robert went on sketching stolidly in his folding-book,
but Laura looked up from her work. “I'm afraid that
there is nothing in the house, father,” she said.
“Laural Laura ! ” He shook his head as one more
in sorrow than in anger. “You are no longer a girl,
Laura. You are a woman, the manager of a household,
Laura. We trust in you. We look entirely toward you.
And yet you leave your poor brother Robert without
any brandy, to say nothing of me, your father. Good
heavens, Laura, what would your mother have said 1
Think of accidents, think of sudden illness, think of
apoplectic fits, Laura. It is a very grave res—a very
grave respons—a very great risk that you run.”
“I hardly touch the stuff,” said Robert, curtly.
“Laura need not provide any for me.”
“As a medicine it is invaluable, Robert. To be used,
you understand, and not to be abused. That's the whole
secret of it. But I'll step down to the Three Pigeons
for half an hour.”
“My dear father,” cried the young man, “you surely
are not going out upon such a night ! If you must
have brandy, could I not send Sarah for some * Please
let me send Sarah. Or I would go myself, or 23
Pip ! came a little paper pellet from his sister's
chair onto the sketch-book in front of him. He un-
rolled it and held it to the light. “For heaven's sake,
let him gol" was scrawled across it.
“Well, in any case, wrap yourself up warm,” he con-
tinued, laying bare his sudden change of front with a



12 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
“It was nothing. I shall never see the poor fellow again.
He was evidently a stranger to this part of the coun-
try. But that was my little adventure. Now let us
have yours.”
The young man crackled the bank-note between his
finger and thumb while he passed his other hand over
his hair with the action of a man who strives to collect
himself.
“It is some ridiculous mistake,” he said; “I must try
and set it right. Yet I don't know how to set about it
either. I was going down to the village from the vicar-
age just after dusk when I found a fellow in a trap who
had got himself into broken water. One wheel had sunk
into the edge of the ditch, which had been hidden by
the snow, and the whole thing was high and dry, with
a list to starboard enough to slide him out of his seat.
I lent a hand, of course, and soon had the wheel in the
road again. It was quite dark, and I fancy that the fel-
low thought that I was a bumpkin, for we did not ex-
change five words. As he drove off he shoved this into
my hand. It is the merest chance that I did not chuck it
away, for, feeling that it was a crumpled piece of paper,
I imagined that it must be a tradesman's advertise-
ment or something of the kind. However, as luck
would have it, I put it in my pocket, and there I found
it when I looked for the dates of our cruise. Now you
know as much of the matter as I do.”
Brother and sister stared at the black and white crin-
kled note, with astonishment upon their faces.
“Why, your unknown traveller must have been
Monte Christo, or Rothschild at the least,” said Rob-
ert. “I am bound to say, Laura, that I think that you
have lost your bet.”
“Oh, I am quite content to lose it. I never heard of


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 18
such a piece of luck. What a perfectly delightful man
this must be to know.”
“But I can't take his money,” said Hector Spurling,
looking somewhat ruefully at the note. “A little prize-
money is all very well in its way, but a Johnny must
draw the line somewhere. Besides, it must have been a
mistake. And yet he meant to give me something big,
for he could not mistake a note for a coin. I suppose I
must advertise for the fellow.”
“It seems a pity too,” remarked Robert. “I must say
that I don't quite see it in the same light that you do.”
“Indeed I think that you are very Quixotic, Hector,”
said Laura McIntyre. “Why should you not accept it
in the spirit in which it was meant. You did this stran-
ger a service—perhaps a greater service than you know
of-and he meant this as a little memento of the occa-
sion. I do not see that there is any possible reason
against your keeping it.”
“Oh, come !” said the young sailor, with an embar-
rassed laugh. “It is not quite the thing—not the sort
of story one would care to tell at mess.”
“In any case, you are off to-morrow morning,” ob-
served Robert. “You have no time to make inquiries
about the mysterious Croesus. You must really make
the best of it.”
“Well, look here, Laura, you put it in your work-
basket,” cried Hector Spurling. “You shall be my
banker. And if the rightful owner turns up then I can
refer him to you. If not, I suppose we must look on it
as a kind of salvage money, though I am bound to say I
don't feel entirely comfortable about it.” He rose to
his feet, and threw the note down into the brown basket
of colored wools that stood beside her. “Now, Laura,
I must up anchor, for I promised the governor to be


14 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HA. W.
back by nine. It won't be long this time, dear, and it
shall be the last. Good-by, Robert I Good luck!”
“Good-by, Hector! Bon voyage!” The young artist
remained by ie table, while his sister followed her lover
to the door. In the dim light of the hall he could see
their figures and overheartmen words.
“Next time, little girl.”
“Next time be it, Hector."
“And nothing can part us?”
“Nothing.”
“In this whole world?"
“Nothing.”
Robert discreetly closed the door. A moment later a
thud from without, and the quick footsteps crunching
on the snow told him that their visitor had departed


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 17
large separate structure sprang up at the same time,
and there came gangs of pale-faced men from London
with much extraordinary machinery, vast cylinders,
wheels, and wires, which they fitted up in this outlying
building. The great chimney which rose from the cen-
tre of it, combined with these strange furnishings,
seemed to mean that it was reserved as a factory or
place of business, for it was rumored that this rich
man's hobby was the same as a poor man's necessity,
and that he was fond of working with his own hands
amid chemicals and furnaces. Scarce, too, was the sec
ond story begun ere the wood-workers and plumbers
and furnishers were busy beneath, carrying out a thou-
sand strange and costly schemes for the greater comfort
and convenience of the owner. Singular stories were
told all round the country, and even in Birmingham it-
self, of the extraordinary luxury, and the absolute disre-
gard for money, which marked all these arrangements.
No sum appeared to be too great to spend upon the
smallest detail which might do away with or lessen any
of the petty inconveniences of life. Wagons and wagons
of the richest furniture had passed through the village
between lines of staring villagers. Costly skins, glossy
carpets, rich rugs, ivory and ebony, and metal, every
glimpse into these storehouses of treasure, had given
rise to some new legend. And finally, when all had
been arranged, there had come a staff of forty servants
who heralded the approach of the owner, Mr. Raffles
Haw, himself.
It was no wonder, then, that it was with considerable
curiosity that Robert McIntyre looked down at the
great house, and marked the smoking chimneys, the
curtained windows, and the other signs which showed
that its tenant had arrived. A vast area of green-houses
2


18 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
gleamed like a lake on the further side, and beyond
were the long lines of stables and out-houses. Fifty
horses had passed through Tamfield the week before, so
that large as were the preparations, they were not more
than would be needed. Who and what could this man
be, who spent his money with so lavish a hand? His
name was unknown. Birmingham was as ignorant as
Tamfield as to his origin, or the sources of his wealth.
Robert McIntyre brooded languidly over the problem
as he leaned against the gate, puffing his blue clouds of
bird's-eye into the crisp still air.
Suddenly his eye caught a dark figure emerging
from the avenue gates and striding up the winding
road. A few minutes brought him near enough to
show a familiar face looking over the stiff collar and
from under the soft black hat of an English clergy-
In all,
“Good-morning, Mr. Spurling.”
“Ah, good-morning, Robert. How are you? Are
you coming my way ? How slippy the roads are.” His
round kindly face was beaming with good-nature, and
he took little jumps as he walked, like a man who can
hardly contain himself for pleasure.
“Have you heard from Hector?”
“Oh, yes. He went off all right last Wednesday
from Spithead, and he will write from Madeira. But
you generally have later news at Elmdene than I have.”
“I don't know whether Laura has heard. Have you
been up to see this new-comer ?”
“Yes, I have just left him.”
“Is he a married man—this Mr. Raffles Haw?”
“No, he is a bachelor. He does not seem to have
any relations either, as far as I could learn. He lives
alone, amid his huge staff of servants. It is a most re-


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 19
markable establishment. It made me think of the ‘Ara-
bian Nights.’”
“And the man 2 What is he like?”
“He is an angel—a positive angel. I never heard or
read of such kindness in my life. He has made me a
happy man.” The clergyman's eyes sparkled with emo-
tion, and he blew his nose loudly in his big red hand-
kerchief.
Robert McIntyre looked at him in surprise. “I am
delighted to hear it,” he said. “May I ask what he has
done?”
“I went up to him by appointment this morning. I
had written, asking him if I might call. I spoke to
him of the parish and its needs, of my long struggle
to restore the south side of the church, and of our ef-
forts to help my poor parishioners during this hard
weather. While I spoke he said not a word, but sat
with a vacant face as though he were not listening to
me. When I had finished, he took up his pen. “How
much will it take to do the church 2' he asked. “A
thousand pounds,” I answered, “but we have already
raised three hundred among ourselves. The Squire has
very handsomely given fifty pounds.’”
“‘Well,” said he, “how about the poor folk? How
many families are there?’ ‘About three hundred,’ I
answered. “And coals, I believe, are at about a pound
a ton,’ said he. ‘Three tons ought to see them through
the rest of the winter. Then you can get a very fair
pair of blankets for two pounds. That would make five
pounds per family, and seven hundred for the church.”
He dipped his pen in the ink, and as I am a living man,
Robert, he wrote me a check then and there for two
thousand two hundred pounds. I don't know what I
said. I felt like a fool. I could not stammer out words


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HA. W. 25
rise above it. Would you mind my shaking you by the
hand 2 ”
It was a somewhat extraordinary request, but Robert
rather prided himself upon his Bohemianism, and upon
his happy faculty for making friends with all sorts and
conditions of men. He readily exchanged a cordial grip
with his chance acquaintance.
“You expressed some curiosity as to this house. I
know the grounds pretty well and might perhaps show
you one or two little things which would interest you.
Here are the gates. Will you come in with me?”
Here was indeed a chance. Robert eagerly assented
and walked up the winding drive amid the growing fir-
trees. When he found his uncouth guide however
marching straight across the broad gravel square to the
main entrance he felt that he had placed himself in a
false position. “Surely not through the front door l’”
he whispered, plucking his companion by the sleeve.
“Perhaps Mr. Raffles Haw might not like it.”
“I don't think there will be any difficulty,” said the
other, with a quiet smile. “My name is Raffles Haw.”


CHAPTER III.
A H G T S E OF WON DE R 8,
Robert McIntyres face must have expressed the utter
astonishment which filled his mind at this most unlooked-
for announcement. For a moment he thought that his
companion must be joking, but the ease and assurance
with which he lounged up the steps, and the deep respect
with which a richly clad functionary in the hall swung
open the door to admit him, showed that he spoke in
sober earnest. Raffles Haw glanced back, and seeing
the look of absolute amazemen, upon the young artist's
features, he chuckled quietly to .mself.
“You will forgive me, won't you, for not disclosing
my identity,” he said, laying his hand wit... a friendly
gesture upon the other's sleeve. “Had you known me
you would have spoken less freely and I should not
have had the opportunity of learning your true worth.
For example, you might hardly have been 30 frank upon
the matter of wealth had you known that you were speak-
ing to the master of the hall.” -
“I don't think that I was ever so astonished in my
life,” gasped Robert.
“Naturally you are. How could you take me for any-
thing but a workman. So I am. Chemistry is one of
my hobbies, and I spend hours a day in my laboratory
yonder. I have only just struck work, and as I had in-
haled some not over pleasant gases, I thought that a
turn down the road and a whiff of tobacco might do me


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HA. W. 27
good. That was how I came to meet you, and my toilet,
2 fear, corresponded only too well with my smoke-be-
grimed face. But I rather fancy I know you by re-
pute. Your name is Robert McIntyre, is it not?”
“Yes, though I cannot imagine how you knew.”
“Well, I naturally took some little trouble to learn
something of my neighbors. I had heard that there was
an artist of that name, and I presume that artists are not
very numerous in Tamfield. But how do you like the
design? I hope it does not offend your trained taste.”
“Indeed it is wonderful, marvellous. You must your.
self have an extraordinary eye for an effect.”
“Oh, I have no taste at all—not the slightest. I
cannot tell good from bad. There was never such a
complete Philistine. But I had the best man in London
down, and another fellow from Vienna. They fixed it
up between them.”
They had been standing just within the folding-doors
upon a huge mat of bison skins. In front of them lay a
great square court, paved with many-colored marbles,
laid out in a labyrinth of arabesque design. In the cen-
tre a fountain of carved jade shot five high thin feathers
of spray into the air, four of which curved toward each
corner of the court, to descend into broad marble basins,
while the fifth mounted straight up to an immense
height, and then tinkled back into the central reservoir.
On either side of the court a tall graceful palm-tree shot
up its slender stem to break into a crown of drooping
green leaves some fifty feet above their heads. All
round were a series of Moorish arches, in jade and ser-
pentine marble, with heavy curtains of the deepest pur-
ple to cover the doors which lay between them. In
front, to right and left, a broad staircase of marble,
carpeted with rich thick Smyrna rug-work, led to the


28 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
upper stories, which were arranged around the central
court. The temperature within was warm and yet fresh,
like the air of an English May.
“It’s taken from the Alhambra,” said Raffles Haw.
“The palm-trees are pretty. They strike right through
the building into the greund beneath, and their roots
are all girt round with hot-water pipes. They seem to
thrive very well.”
“What beautifully delicate brass-work!” cried Rob-
ert, looking up, with admiring eyes, at the bright and
infinitely fragile metal trellis screens which adorned the
spaces between the Moorish arches.
“It is rather neat. But it is not brass-work. Brass
is not tough enough to allow them to work it to that
degree of fineness. It is gold. But just come this way
with me. You won't mind waiting while I remove this
smoke.” -
He led the way to a door upon the left side of the
court, which, to Robert's surprise, swung slowly open as
they approached it.
“That is a little improvement which I have adopted,”
remarked the master of the house. “As you go up to a
door your weight upon the planks releases a spring
which causes the hinges to revolve. Pray step in. This
is my own little sanctum, and furnished after my own
heart.”
If Robert expected to see some fresh exhibition of
wealth and luxury he was wofully disappointed, for he
found himself in a large but bare room, with a little iron
truckle bed in one corner, a few scattered wooden chairs,
a dingy carpet, and a large table heaped with books,
bottles, papers, and all the other débris which collect
around a busy and untidy man. Motioning his visitor
into a chair, Raffles Haw pulled off his coat, and turning


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 29
up the sleeves of his coarse flannel shirt, he began to
plunge and scrub in the warm water which flowed from
a tap in the wall.
“You see how simple my own tastes are,” he remarked,
as he mopped his dripping face and hair with a towel.
“This is the only room in my great house where I find
myself in a congenial atmosphere. It is homely to me.
I can read here and smoke my pipe in peace. Anything
like luxury is abhorrent to me.”
“Really, I should not have thought it,” observed
Robert.
“It is a fact, I assure you. You see, even with your
views as to worthlessness of wealth, views which, I am
sure, are very sensible and much to your credit, you
must allow that if a man should happen to be the pos-
sessor of vast—well, let us say of considerable—sums of
money, it is his duty to get that money into circulation.
so that the community may be the better for it. There
is the secret of my fine feathers. I have to exert all my
ingenuity in order to spend my income and yet keep
the money in legitimate channels. For example, it is
very easy to give money away, and no doubt I could dis-
pose of my surplus, or part of my surplus, in that fash-
ion, but I have no wish to pauperize anyone, or to do
mischief by indiscriminate charity. I must exact some
sort of money's worth for all the money which I lay out.
You see my point, don't you?”
“Entirely, though really it is something novel to
hear a man complain of the difficulty of spending his
income.”
“I assure you that it is a very serious difficulty with
me. But I have hit upon some plans—some very
pretty plans. Will you wash your hands 2 Well, then,
perhaps you would care to have a look round? Just


30 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
come into this corner of the room and sit upon this
chair—so. Now I will sit upon this one, and we are
ready to start.”
The angle of the chamber in which they sat was
painted for about six feet in each direction of a dark
chocolate brown, and was furnished with two red plush
seats protruding from the walls, and in striking contrast
with the simplicity of the rest of the apartment.
“This,” remarked Raffles Haw, “is a lift, though it
is so closely joined to the rest of the room that without
the change in color it might puzzle you to find the di-
vision. It is made to run either horizontally or verti-
cally. This line of knobs represent the various rooms.
You can see ‘dining,’ ‘smoking,’ ‘billiard,” “library,’
and so on upon them. I will show you the upward ac-
tion. I press this one with ‘kitchen' upon it.”
There was a sense of motion, a very slight jar, and
Robert, without moving from his seat, was conscious
that the room had vanished, and that a large arched
oaken door stood in the place which it had occupied.
“That is the kitchen door,” said Raffles Haw. “I
have my kitchens at the top of the house. I cannot
tolerate the smell of cooking. We have come up eighty
feet in one and a half seconds. Now I press again and
here we are in my room once more.”
Robert McIntyre stared about him in astonishment.
“The wonders of science are greater than those of
magic,” he remarked.
“Yes, it is a pretty little mechanism. Now we try
the horizontal. I press the ‘dining' knob and here we
are, you see. Step toward the door, and you will find
it open in front of you.”
Robert did as he was bid, and found himself with
his companion in a large and lofty room, while the lift,


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 31
the instant that it was freed from their weight, flashed
back to its original position. With his feet sinking into
the soft rich carpet, as though he were ankle-deep in
some mossy bank, he stared about him at the great pict-
ures which lined the walls.
“Surely, surely, I see Raphael's touch there,” he
cried, pointing up at the one which faced him.
“Yes, it is a Raphael, and I believe one of his best.
I had a very exciting bid for it with the French Gov-
ernment. They wanted it for the Louvre, but of course
at an auction the longest purse must win.”
“And this ‘Arrest of Catiline' must be a Rubens.
One cannot mistake his splendid men and his infamops
women.”
“Yes, it is a Rubens. The other two are a Velasquez
and a Teniers, fair specimens of the Spanish and of the
Dutch schools. I have only old masters here. The
moderns are in the billiard-room. The furniture here
is a little curious—in fact, I fancy that it is unique. It
is made of ebony and narwhal's horns. You see that
the legs of everything are of spiral ivory, both the table
and the chairs. It cost the upholsterer some little
pains, for the supply of these things is a strictly limited
one. Curiously enough, the Chinese Emperor had given
a large order for narwhal's horns to repair some an-
cient pagoda which was fenced in with them, but I out-
bid him in the market, and his Celestial highness has
had to wait. There is a lift here in the corner, but
we do not need it. Pray step through this door. This
is the billiard-room,” he continued, as they advanced
into the adjoining room. “You see I have a few re-
cent pictures of merit upon the walls. Here is a Corot,
two Meissonniers, a Bouguereau, a Millais, an Orchard-
son, and two Alma Tademas. It seems to me to be a


32 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
pity to hang pictures over these walls of carved oak.
Look at those birds hopping and singing in the
branches. They really seem to move and twitter, don't
they 2”
“They are perfect. I never saw such exquisite work.
But why do you call it a billiard-room, Mr. Haw? I do
not see any board.”
“Oh, a board is such a clumsy, uncompromising piece
of furniture. It is always in the way, unless you act-
ually need to use it. In this case the board is covered
by that square of polished maple which you see let into
the floor. Now I put my foot upon this motor. You
see l’ As he spoke the central portion of the flooring
flew up, and a most beautiful tortoise-shell-plated bill-
iard-table rose up some four feet into the air. He
pressed a second spring and a bagatelle-table appeared
in the same fashion. “You may have card-tables or
what you will by setting the levers in motion,” he re-
marked. “But all this is very trifling. Perhaps we
may find something in the museum which may be of
more interest to you.”
He led the way into another chamber, which was fur-
nished in antique style, with hangings of the rarest
and richest tapestry. The floor was a mosaic of colored
marbles, scattered over with mats of costly fur. There
was little furniture, but a number of Louis-quatorze
cabinets of ebony and silver, with delicately painted
plaques, were ranged round the apartment.
“It is perhaps hardly fair to dignify it by the name
of a museum,” said Raffles Haw. “It consists merely
of a few elegant trifles which I have picked up here and
there. Gems are my strongest point. Ifancy that there
—perhaps I might challenge comparison with any pri-
vate collector in the world. I lock them up, for even


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 33
the best servants may be tempted.” He took a silver
key from his watch-chain and began to unlock and draw
out the drawers. A cry of wonder and of admiration
burst from Robert McIntyre, as his eyes rested upon
case after case filled with the most magnificent stones.
The deep still red of the rubies, the clear scintillating
green of the emeralds, the hard glitter of the diamonds,
the many shifting shades of beryls, of "amethysts, of
onyxes, of cats'-eyes, of opals, of agates, of cornelians,
seemed to fill the whole chamber with a vague twink-
ling of many-colored lights. Long slabs of the beauti-
ful blue lapis lazuli, magnificent bloodstones, specimens
of pink and red and white coral, long strips of lustrous
pearls, all these were tossed out by their owner as a
careless schoolboy might pour marbles from his bag.
“This isn't bad,” he said, holding up a great glowing
yellow mass as large as his own head. “It is really a
very fine piece of amber. It was forwarded to me by
my agent at the Baltic. Twenty-eight pounds it weighs.
I never heard of so fine a one. I have no very large
brilliants—there were no very large ones in the market
—but my average is good. Pretty toys, are they not?”
He picked up a large double handful of emeralds from
a drawer, and then let them trickle slowly back into the
heap.
“Good heavens !” cried Robert, as he gazed from
case to case. “It is an immense fortune in itself.
Surely a hundred thousand pounds would hardly buy so
splendid a collection.”
“I don't think that you would do for a valuer of
precious stones,” said Raffles Haw, laughing. “Why,
the contents of that one little drawer of brilliants could
not be bought for the sum which you name. I have a
memo, here of what I have expended up to date on my
8 -


34 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
collection, though I have agents at work who will prob.
ably make very considerable additions to it within the
next few weeks. As matters stand, however, I have
spent—let me see—pearls, one forty thousand; emer-
alds, seven fifty; rubies, eight forty; brilliants, nine
twenty; onyxes—I have several very nice onyxes—twe
thirty. Other gems, carbuncles, agates—hum ! Yes,
it figures out at just over four million seven hundred
and forty thousand. I daresay that we may say five
million, for I have not counted the odd money.”
“Good gracious !” cried the young artist, with star-
ing eyes.
“I have a certain feeling of duty in the matter. You
see the cutting, polishing, and general sale of stones is
one of those industries which is entirely dependent
upon wealth. If we do not support it it must languish,
which means misfortune to a considerable number of
people. The same applies to the gold filigree-work
which you noticed in the court. Wealth has its re-
sponsibilities, and the encouragement of these handi-
crafts are among the most obvious of them. Here is
a nice ruby. It is Burmese, and the fifth largest in
existence. I am inclined to think that if it were uncut
it would be the second, but of course cutting takes away
a great deal.” He held up the blazing red stone, about
the size of a chestnut, between his finger and thumb for
a moment, and then threw it carelessly back into its
drawer. “Come into the smoking-room,” he said.
“You will need some little refreshment, for they say
that sight-seeing is the most exhausting occupation in
the world.”


CHAPTER IV.
FROM CLIME TO CLIME,
The chamber in which the bewildered Robert now
found himself was more luxurious, if less rich, than
any which he had yet seen. Low settees of claret-col-
ored plush were scattered in orderly disorder over a
mossy Eastern carpet. Deep lounges, reclining sofas,
American rocking-chairs—all were to be had for the
choosing. One end of the room was walled by glass, and
appeared to open upon a luxuriant hot-house. At the
further end a double line of gilt rails supported a profu-
sion of the most recent magazines and periodicals. A
rack at each side of the inlaid fireplace sustained a long
line of the pipes of all places and nations—English
cherrywoods, French briers, German china-bowls, carved
meerschaums, scented cedar and myall wood, with East-
ern narghiles, Turkish chibouks, and two great golden-
topped hookahs. To right and left were a series of
small lockers, extending in a treble row for the whole
length of the room, with the names of the various
brands of tobacco scrolled in ivory-work across them.
Above were other larger tiers of polished oak, which
held cigars and cigarettes.
“Try that Damascus settee,” said the master of the
house, as he threw himself into a rocking-chair. “It
is from the Sultan's upholsterer. The Turks have a
very good notion of comfort. I am a confirmed smoker
myself, Mr. McIntyre, so I have been able perhaps to


36 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
check my architect here more than in most of the other
departments. Of pictures, for example, I know noth-
ing, as you would very speedily find out. On a tobacco
I might perhaps offer an opinion. Now these *—he drew
out some long beautifully rolled mellow-colored cigars
—“these are really something a little out of the com-
mon. Do try one.”
Robert lit the weed which was offered to him and
leaned back luxuriously amid his cushions, gazing
through the blue balmy fragrant cloud-wreaths at the
extraordinary man in the dirty pea-jacket, who spoke
of millions as another might of sovereigns. With his
pale face, his sad, languid air, and his bowed shoulders,
it was as though he were crushed down under the weight
of his own gold. There was a mute apology, an attitude
of deprecation, in his whole manner and speech, which
was strangely at variance with the immense power which
he wielded. To Robert the whole whimsical incident
had been intensely interesting and amusing. His artis-
tic nature blossomed out in this atmosphere of perfect
luxury and comfort, and he was conscious of a sense of
repose and of absolute sensual contentment such as he
had never before experienced.
“Shall it be coffee, or Rhine wine, or Tokay, or per-
haps something stronger?” asked Raffles Haw, stretch-
ing out his hand to what looked like a piano-board
projecting from the wall. “I can recommend the
Tokay. I have it from the man who supplies the Em-
peror of Austria, though I think I may say that I get
the cream of it.” He struck twice upon one of the
piano-notes and sat expectant. With a sharp click at
the end of ten seconds a sliding shutter flew open and
a small tray protruded bearing two long tapering Wene-
tian glasses filled with wine.


38 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
have little in common. I am no society man. I don't
want to call or be called on. I am a student in a small
way, and a man of quiet tastes. I have no social ambi-
tions at all. Do you understand?”
“Entirely.”
“On the other hand, my experience of the world has
been that it is the rarest thing to be able to form a
friendship with a poorer man—I mean with a man who
is at all eager to increase his income. They think much
of your wealth and little of yourself. I have tried, you
understand, and I know.” He paused and ran his fin-
gers through his thin beard. Robert McIntyre nodded
to show that he appreciated his position.
“Now, you see,” he continued, “if I am to be cut off
from the rich by my own tastes, and from those who are
not rich by my distrust of their motives, my situation
is an isolated one. Not that I mind isolation ; I am
used to it. But it limits my field of usefulness. I have
no trustworthy means of informing myself when and
where I may do good. I have already, I am glad to say,
met a man to-day, your vicar, who appears to be thor-
oughly unselfish and trustworthy. He shall be one of
my channels of communication with the outer world.
Might I ask you whether you would be willing to be-
come another?”
“With the greatest pleasure,” said Robert, eagerly.
The proposition filled his heart with joy, for it seemed
to give him an almost official connection with this para-
dise of a house. He could not have asked for anything
more to his taste.
“I was fortunate enough to discover by your conver-
sation how high a ground you take in such matters, and
how entirely disinterested you are. You may have ob-
served that I was short and almost rude with you at


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 39
first. I have had reason to fear and suspect all chance
friendships. Too often they have proved to be carefully
planned beforehand, with some sordid object in view.
Good heavens, what stories I could tell you ! A lady
pursued by a bull—I have risked my life to save her,
and have learned afterward that the scene had been ar-
ranged by the mother as an effective introduction, and
that the bull had been hired by the hour. But I won't
shake your faith in human nature. I have had some
rude shocks myself. I look perhaps with a jaundiced
eye on all who come near me. It is the more need-
ful that I should have one whom I can trust to advise
me.”
“If you will only show me where my opinion can be
of any use I shall be most happy,” said Robert. “My
people come from Birmingham, but I know most of the
folk here and their position.”
“That is just what I want. Money can do so much
good, and it may do so much harm. Ishall consult you
when I am in doubt. By the way, there is one small
question which I might ask you now. Can you tell me
who a young lady is with very dark hair, gray eyes, and
a finely chiselled face. She wore a blue dress when I
saw her, with astrakhan about her neck and cuffs’ ”
Robert chuckled to himself. “I know that dress
pretty well,” he said. “It is my sister Laura whom
you describe.”
“Your sister l Really lºwhy, there is a resemblance,
now that my attention is called to it. I saw her the other
day, and wondered who she might be. She lives with
you, of course?”
“Yes, My father, she, and I live together at Elm-
dene.”
“Where I hope to have the pleasure of making their


40 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
acquaintance. You have finished your cigar? Have ans
other, or try a pipe. To the real smoker all is mere
trifling save the pipe. I have most brands of tobacco
here. The lockers are filled on the Monday, and on
Saturday they are handed over to the old folk at the
alms-houses, so I manage to keep it pretty fresh always.
Well, if you won't take anything else, perhaps you would
care to see one or two of the other effects which I have
devised. On this side is the armory, and beyond it the
library. My collection of books is a limited one, there
are just over the hundred thousand volumes, but it is
to some extent remarkable for quality. I have a Visigoth
Bible of the fifth century, which I rather fancy is unique.
There is a Biblia Pauperum of 1430, a MS. of Genesis
done upon mulberry leaves, probably of the second cen-
tury. A Tristan and Isault of the eighth century, and
some hundred black letters, with five very fine specimens
of Schöffer and Faust. But those you may turn over any
wet afternoon when you have nothing better to do.
Meanwhile I have a little device connected with this
smoking-room which may amuse you. Light this other
cigar. Now sit with me upon that lounge which stands
at the further end of the room.”
The sofa in question was in a niche which was lined
on three sides and above with perfectly clear, transparent
crystal. As they sat down the master of the house drew
a cord which pulled down a crystal shutter behind them,
so they were enclosed on all sides in a great box of
glass, so pure and so highly polished that its presence
might very easily be forgotten. A number of golden
cords with crystal handles hung down into this small
chamber, and appeared to be connected with a long
shaming bar outside.
“Now, where would you like to smoke your cigar?”
y


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 4]
said Raffles Haw, with a twinkle in his demure eyes.
“Shall we go to India, or to Egypt, or to China, or
to—”
“To South America,” said Robert.
There was a tinkle, a whirr, and a sense of motion.
The young artist gazed about him in absolute amaze-
ment. Look where he would, all round were tree ferns
and palms with long drooping creepers, and a blaze of
brilliant orchids. Smoking-room, house, England, all
were gone, and he sat on a settee in the heart of a virgin
forest of the Amazon. It was no mere optical delusion,
or trick. He could see the hot steam rising from the
tropical undergrowth, the heavy drops falling from the
huge green leaves, the very grain and fibre of the rough
bark which clothed the trunks. Even as he gazed, a
green mottled snake curled noiselessly over a branch
above his head, and a bright-colored parroquet broke
suddenly from amid the foliage, and flashed off among
the tree-trunks. Robert gazed around, speechless with
surprise, and finally turned upon his host a face in
which curiosity was not unmixed with a suspicion of
fear.
“People have been burned for less, have they not?”
cried Raffles Haw, laughing heartily. “Have you had
enough of the Amazon. What do you say to a spell of
Egypt?”
Again the whirr, the swift flash of passing objects,
and in an instant a huge desert stretched on every side
of them, as far as eye could reach. In the foreground
a clump of five palm-trees towered into the air, with a
profusion of rough cactus-like plants bristling from their
base. On the other side rose a rugged gnarled gray
monolith, carved at the foot into a huge scarabaeus. A
group of lizards played about on the surface of the old


42 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
carved stone. Beyond, the yellow sand stretched away
into furthest space, where the dim mirage mist played
along the horizon.
“Mr. Hawl I cannot understand it !” Robert
grasped the velvet edge of the settee, and gazed wildly
about him.
“The effect is rather startling, is it not? This Egyp-
tian desert is my favorite when I lay, myself out for a
contemplative smoke. It seems strange that tobacco
should have come from the busy, practical West. It has
much more affinity for the dreamy, languid East. But
perhaps you would like to run over to China for a
change.”
“Not to-day,” said Robert, passing his hand over his
forehead. “I feel a little confused by all these wonders,
and indeed I think that they have affected my nerves a
little. Besides, it is time that I returned to my prosaic
little Elmdene, if I can find my way out of this wilder-
ness to which you have transplanted me. But would
you ease my mind, Mr. Haw, by showing me how this
thing is done?”
“It is the merest toy—a complex plaything, nothing
more. Allow me to explain. I have a line of very large
greenhouses which extend from one end of my smok-
ing-room. These different houses are kept at varying
degrees of heat and humidity so as to reproduce the ex-
act climates of Egypt, China, and the rest. You see:
our crystal chamber is a tramway running with a mini-
mum of friction along a steel rod. By pulling this or
that handle I regulate how far it shall go, and it travels,
as you have seen, with amazing speed. The effect of my
hot-houses is heightened by the roofs being invariably
concealed by skies, which are really very admirably
painted, and by the introduction of birds and other


44 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
head in a whirl, his whole mind possessed and intoxi-
cated by the one idea of the boundless wealth and the
immense power of this extraordinary stranger. Small
and sordid and mean seemed his own Elmdene as he
approached it, and he passed over its threshold full of
restless discontent with himself and his surroundings.


CHAPTER W.
LAURA’s R E QUE s T.
That night, after supper, Robert McIntyre poured
forth all that he had seen to his father and to his sister.
So full was he of the one subject that it was a relief to
him to share his knowledge with others. Rather for his
own sake, then, than for theirs, he depicted vividly all
the marvels which he had seen, the profusion of wealth,
the regal treasure-house of gems, the gold, the marble,
the extraordinary devices, the absolute lavishness, and
complete disregard for money which was shown in every
detail. For an hour he pictured with glowing words
all the wonders which had been shown him, and ended
with some pride by describing the request which Mr.
Raffles Haw had made, and the complete confidence
which he had placed in him.
His words had a very different effect upon his two lis-
teners. Old McIntyre leaned back in his chair with a
bitter smile upon his lips, his thin face crinkled into a
thousand puckers, and his small eyes shining with envy
and greed. His lean yellow hand upon the table was
clenched until the knuckles gleamed white in the lamp-
light. Laura, on the other hand, leaned forward, her
lips parted, drinking in her brother's words, with a
glow of color upon either cheek. It seemed to Robert,
as he glanced from one to the other of them, that he had
never seen his father look so evil, or his sister so beau-
tiful.


46 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
“Who is the fellow, then 2" asked the old man, after
a considerable pause. “I hope he got all this in an
honest fashion. Five millions in jewels, you say. Good
gracious me! Ready to give it away, too, but afraid of
pauperizing anyone. You can tell him, Robert, that
you know of one very deserving case which has not the
slightest objection to being pauperized.”
“But who can he possibly be, Robert?" cried Laura.
“Haw cannot be his real name. He must be some dis-
guised prince, or perhaps a king in exile. Oh, I should
have loved to see those diamonds—and the emeralds.
I always think that emeralds suit dark people best.
You must tell me again all about that museum,
Robert.”
“I don't think he is anything more than he pretends
to be,” her brother answered. “He has the plain, quiet
manners of an ordinary middle-class Englishman.
There was no particular polish that I could see. He
knew a little about books and pictures, just enough to
appreciate them, but nothing more. No, I fancy that
he is a man quite in our own position of life, who has in
some way inherited a vast sum. Of course it is difficult
for me to form an estimate, but I should judge that
what I saw to-day, house, pictures, jewels, books, and
so on, could never have been bought under twenty mill-
ion, and I am sure that that figure is entirely an under-
estimate.”
“I never knew but one Haw,” said old McIntyre,
drumming his fingers on the table. “He was a fore-
man in my pin-fire cartridge-case department. But he
was an elderly single man. Well, I hope he got it all
honestly. I hope the money is clean.”
“And really, really, he is coming to see us!” cried
Laura, clapping her hands. “Oh, when do you think


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 47
he will come, Robert 2 Do give me warning. Do you
think it will be to-morrow?”
“I am sure I cannot say.” -
“I should so love to see him. I don't know when I
have been so interested.”
“Why, you have a letter there,” remarked Robert.
“From Hector, too, by the foreign stamp. How is
he 2"
“It only came this evening. I have not opened it
yet. To tell the truth, I have been so interested in
your story that I have forgotten all about it. Poor old
Hector It is from Madeira.” She glanced rapidly
over the four pages of straggling writing in the young
sailor's bold schoolboyish hand. “Oh, he is all right,”
she said. “They had a gale on the way out and that
sort of thing, but it is all right now. He thinks he may
be back by March. I wonder whether your new friend
will come to-morrow—your knight of the enchanted
castle.”
“Hardly so soon, I should fancy.”
“If he should be looking about for an investment,
Robert,” said the father, “you won't forget to tell him
what a fine opening there is now in the gun-trade.
With my knowledge, and a few thousands at my back, I
could bring him in his thirty per cent, as regular as the
bank. After all, he must lay out his money somehow.
He cannot sink it all in books and precious stones. I
am sure that I could give him the highest references.”
“It may be a long time before he comes, father,” said
Robert, coldly; “and when he does I am afraid that I
can hardly use his friendship as a means of advancing
your interests.”
“We are his equals, father,” cried Laura, with spirit.
“Would you put us on the footing of beggars ? He


48 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
would think we cared for him only for his money. I
wonder that you should think of such a thing.”
“If I had not thought of such things where would
your education have been, miss?” retorted the angry
old man, and Robert stole quietly away to his room,
whence amid his canvases he could still hear the hoarse
voice and the clear in their never-ending family jangle.
More and more sordid seemed the surroundings of his
life, and more and more to be valued the peace which
money can buy.
Breakfast had hardly been cleared in the morning,
and Robert had not yet ascended to his work, when
there came a timid tapping at the door, and there was
Raffles Haw on the mat outside. Robert ran out and
welcomed him with all cordiality.
“I am afraid that I am a very early visitor,” he said,
apologetically, “but I often take a walk after breakfast.”
He had no traces of work upon him now, but was trim
and neat, with a dark suit and carefully brushed hair.
“You spoke yesterday of your work. Perhaps, early as
it is, you would allow me the privilege of looking over
your studio.”
“Pray step in, Mr. Haw,” cried Robert, all in a flut-
ter at this advance from so munificent a patron of art.
“I shall be only too happy to show you such little work
as I have on hand, though indeed I am almost afraid
when I think how familiar you are with some of the
greatest masterpieces. Allow me to introduce you to
my father and my sister Laura.”
Old McIntyre bowed low and rubbed his thin hands
together, but the young lady gave a gasp of surprise and
stared with widely-opened eyes at the millionaire. Haw
stepped forward, however, and shook her quietly by the
hand.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 49
“I expected to find that it was you,” he said, “I
have already met your sister, Mr. McIntyre, on the very
first day that I came here. We took shelter in a shed
from a snowstorm, and had quite a pleasant little chat.”
“I had no notion that I was speaking to the owner of
the hall,” said Laura, in some confusion. “How fun-
mily things turn out, to be sure.”
“I had often wondered who it was that I spoke to,
but it was only yesterday that I discovered. What a
sweet little place you have here ! It must be charming
in summer. Why, if it were not for this hill my win-
dows would look straight across at yours.”
“Yes, and we should see all your beautiful planta-
tions,” said Laura, standing beside him in the window.
“I was wishing only yesterday that the hill was not
there.”
“Really. I shall be happy to have it removed for
you if you would like it.”
“Good gracious !” cried Laura. “Why, where
would you put it?”
“Oh, they could run it along the line, and dump it
anywhere. It is not much of a hill. A few thousand
men with proper machinery, and a line of rails brought
right up to them, could easily dispose of it in a few
months.”
“And the poor vicar's house?” Laura asked, laugh-
1ng.
“Oh, I think that might be got over. We could run
him up a facsimile which would perhaps be more con-
venient to him. Your brother will tell you that I am
quite an expert at the designing of houses. But seri-
ously, if you think it would be an improvement I will
see what can be done.”
“Not for the world, Mr. Haw. Why, I should be a
4


50 THE DOINGS OF RAM"FLE'S HAW.
traitor to the whole village if I were to encourage such
a scheme. The hill is the one thing which gives Tam-
field the slightest individuality. It would be the height
Df selfishness to sacrifice it in order to improve the view
from Elmdene.”
“It is a little box of a place, this, Mr. Haw,” said old
McIntyre; “I should think you must feel quite stifled
in it after your grand mansion, of which my son tells
me such wonders. But we were not always accustomed
to this sort of thing, Mr. Haw. Humble as I stand
here, there was a time, and not so long ago, when I
could write as many figures on a check as any gunmaker
in Birmingham. It was—”
“He is a dear discontented old papa,” cried Laura,
throwing her arm round him in a caressing manner.
He gave a sharp squeak and a grimace of pain, which
he endeavored to hide by an outbreak of painfully arti-
ficial coughing.
“Shall we go upstairs,” said Robert, hurriedly, anx-
ious to divert his guest's attention from this little do-
mestic incident. “My studio is the real atelier, for it
is right up under the tiles. I shall lead the way if you
will have the kindness to follow me.”
Leaving Laura and Mr. McIntyre, they went up to-
gether to the work-room. Mr. Haw stood long in front
of the “Signing of Magna Charta” and the “Murder of
Thomas à Becket,” screwing up his eyes, and twitching
nervously at his beard, while Robert stood by in anxious
expectancy.
“And how much are these?” asked Raffles Haw, at
last.
“I priced them at a hundred a piece when I sent
them to London.”
“Then the best I can wish you is that the day may
t


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 51
come when you would gladly give ten times the sum to
have them back again. I am sure that there are great
possibilities in you, and I see that in grouping and in
boldness of design you have already achieved much.
But your drawing, if you will excuse my saying so, is
just a little crude, and your coloring perhaps a trifle
thin. Now, I will make a bargain with you, Mr. Mc-
Intyre, if you will consent to it. I know that money
has no charm to you, but still, as you said when I first
met you, a man must live. I shall buy these two can-
vases from you at the price which you name, subject
to the condition that you may always have them back
again by repaying the same sum.”
“You are really very kind ' " Robert hardly knew
whether to be delighted at having sold his pictures, or
humiliated at the frank criticism of the buyer.
“May I write a check at once?” said Raffles Haw.
“Here is pen and ink. So I I shall send a couple of
footmen down for them in the afternoon. Well, I shall
keep them in trust for you. I dare say that when you
are famous they will be of value as specimens of your
early manner.”
“I am sure that I am extremely obliged to you, Mr.
Haw,” said the young artist, placing the check in his
note-book. He glanced at it as he folded it up, in the
vague hope that perhaps this man of whims had as-
sessed his pictures at a higher rate than he had named.
The figures, however, were exact. Robert began dimly
to perceive that there were drawbacks as well as advan-
tages to the reputation of a money scorner, which he had
gained by a few chance words, prompted rather by the
reaction against his father, than by his own real convic-
tions.
“I hope, Miss McIntyre,” said Raffles Haw, when they


52 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
Yad descended to the sitting-room once more, “that you
will do me the honor of coming to see the little curi-
osities which I have gathered together. Your brother
will, I am sure, escort you up, or perhaps Mr. McIntyre
would care to come.” º
“I shall be delighted to come, Mr. Haw," cried Laura,
with her sweetest smile. “A good deal of my time just
now is taken up in looking after the poor people, who
find the cold weather very trying.” Robert raised his
eyebrows, for it was the first he had heard of his sis-
ter's missions of mercy, but Mr. Raffles Haw nodded ap-
provingly. “Robert was telling us of your wonderful
hot-houses. I am sure I wish I could transport the
whole parish into one of them, and give them a good
warm.”
“Nothing would be easier, but I am afraid that they
might find it a little trying when they came out again.
I have one house which is only just finished. Your
brother has not seen it yet, but I think it is the best of
them all. It represents an Indian jungle, and is hot
enough in all conscience.”
“I shall so look forward to seeing it,” cried Laura,
clasping her hands. “It has been one of the dreams of
my life to see India. I have read so much of it, the tem-
ples, the forests, the great rivers, and the tigers. Why,
you would hardly believe it, but I have never seen a
tiger except in a picture.”
“That can easily be set right,” said Raffles Haw, with
his quiet smile. “Would you care to see one 2"
“Oh, immensely.”
“I will have one sent down. Let me see—it is
nearly twelve o'clock. I can get a wire to Liverpool by
one. There is a man there who deals in such things. I
should think he would be due to-morrow morning.
• *.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 53
Well, I shall look forward to seeing you all before very
ſong. I have rather overstayed my time, for I am a man
of routine, and I always put in a certain number of
hours in my laboratory.” He shook hands cordially with
them all, and lighting his pipe at the doorstep, strolled
off upon his way.
“Well, what do you think of him now?” asked Rob-
ert, as they watched his black figure against the white
snow.
“I think he is no more fit to be trusted with all that
money than a child,” cried the old man. “It made me
positively sick to hear him talk of moving hills and
buying tigers, and such-like nonsense, when there are
honest men without a business, and great businesses
starving for a little capital. It's unchristian — that's
what I call it.”
“I think he is most delightful, Robert,” said Laura.
“Remember you have promised to take us up to the
hall. And he evidently wishes us to go soon. Don't
you think we might go this afternoon?”
“I hardly think that, Laura. You leave it in my
hands, and I will manage it all. And now I must get
to work, for the light is so very short on these winter
days.”
That night Robert McIntyre had gone to bed, and
was dozing off, when a hand plucked at his shoulder,
and he started up to find his sister in some white
drapery, with a shawl thrown over her shoulders, stand-
ing beside him in the moonlight.
“Robert, dear,” she whispered, stooping over him,
“there was something I wanted to ask you, but papa
was always in the way. You will do something to please
me, won't you, Robert’”
“Of course, Laura. What is it?”


54 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
“I do hate having my affairs talked over, dear. If
Mr. Raffles Haw says anything to you about me, or asks
any questions, please don't say anything about Hector.
You won't, will you, Robert, for the sake of your little
sister ?”
“No, not unless you wish it.”
“There is a dear good brother.” She stooped over
him and kissed him tenderly. It was a rare thing for
Laura to show any emotion, and her brother marvelled
sleepily over it until he relapsed into his interrupted
doze.


k
CHAPTER WL
A S T R A N G E W IS ITO R.
The McIntyre family were seated at breakfast on the
morning which followed the first visit of Raffles Haw,
when they were surprised to hear the buzz and hum of
a multitude of voices in the village street. Nearer and
nearer came the tumult, and then, of a sudden, two
maddened horses reared themselves up on the other
side of the garden hedge, prancing and pawing, with
ears laid back, and eyes ever glancing at some horror
behind them. Two men hung shouting to their bri-
dles, while a third came rushing up the curved gravel
path. Before the McIntyres could realize the situation
their maid, Mary, darted into the sitting-room with ter-
ror in her round, freckled face.
“If you please, miss,” she screamed, “your tiger has
arrove.”
“Good heavens!” cried Robert, rushing to the door
with his half-filled tea-cup in his hand. “This is too
much. Here is an iron cage on a trolly with a great
ramping tiger, and the whole village with their mouths
open.”
“Mad as a hatter,” shrieked Old McIntyre. “l
could see it in his eye. He's spent enough on this
beast to start me in business. Who ever heard of
such a thing. Tell the driver to take it to the police
station.”
“Nothing of the sort, papa,” said Laura, rising with


56 THE DOING, OF RAFFLES HAW.
dignity, and wrapping a shawl about her shoulders.
Her eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed, and she car-
ried herself like a triumphant queen. Robert, with his
tea-cup in his hand, allowed his attention to be diverted
from their strange visitor while he gazed at his beautiful
sister.
“Mr. Raffles Haw has done this out of kindness to me,”
she said, sweeping toward the door. “I look upon it
as a great attention upon his part. I shall certainly go
out and look at it.”
“If you please, sir,” said the carman, reappearing
at the door, “it’s all as we can do to 'old in the hosses.”
“Let us all go out together, then,” suggested Robert.
They went as far as the garden fence and stared over,
while the whole village, from the school children to
the old gray-haired men from the alms-houses, gath-
ered round in mute astonishment. The tiger, a long,
lithe, venomous-looking creature with two blazing green
eyes, paced stealthily round the little cage, lashing its
sides with its tail, and rubbing its muzzle against the
bars.
“What were your orders?” asked Robert of the car-
In 1811.
“It came through by special express from Liverpool,
sir, and the train is drawn up at the Tamfield siding all
ready to take it back. If it 'ad been ryalty the railway
folk couldn't have shown it more respec'. We are to
take it back when you've done with it. It's been a cruel
job, sir, for our arms is pulled clean out of the sockets
a-'oldin' in of the 'osses.”
“What a dear, sweet creature it is,” cried Laura.
“How sleek and how graceful! I cannot understand
how people could be afraid of anything so beautiful”
“If you please, marm,” said the carman, touching his


THE DOINGS OF RAFP'LES HAW. 57
skin cap, “he out with his paw between the bars as we
stood in the station yard, and if I’adn't pulled my mate
Bill back it would ha’ been a case of kingdom come. It
was a proper near Squeak, I can tell ye.”
“I never saw anything more lovely,” continued Laura,
loftily overlooking the remarks of the driver. “It has
been a very great pleasure to me to see it, and I hope
that you will tell Mr. Haw so if you see him, Robert.”
“The horses are very restive,” said her brother. “Per-
haps, Laura, if you have seen enough it would be as well
to let them go.”
She bowed in the regal fashion which she had so sud-
denly adopted. Robert shouted the order, the driver
sprang up, his comrades let the horses go, and away
rattled the wagon and the trolley with half the Tamfield-
ers streaming vainly behind it.
“Is it not wonderful what money can do?” Laura re-
marked, as they knocked the snow from their shoes
within the porch. “There seems to be no wish which
Mr. Haw could not at once gratify.”
“No wish of yours, you mean,” broke in her father.
“It's different when he is dealing with a wrinkled old
man, who has spent himself in working for his children.
A plainer case of love at first sight I never saw.”
“How can you be so coarse, papa?” cried Laura, but
her eyes flashed and her teeth gleamed, as though the
remark had not altogether displeased her.
“For heaven's sake, be careful, Laura !” cried Robert.
“It had not struck me before, but really it does look
rather like it. You know how you stand. Raffles Haw
is not a man to play with.”
“You dear old boy,” said Laura, laying her head
upon his shoulder, “what do you know of such things?
All you have to do is to go on with your painting, and


58 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
to remember the promise you made me the other
night.”
“What promise was that, then?” cried old McIntyre,
suspiciously.
“Never you mind, papa. But if you forget it, Rob-
ert, I shall never forgive you as long as I live.”


s
CHAPTER VII.
THE WORKINGS OF WEALTH,
It can easily be believed that as the weeks passed the
name and fame of the mysterious owner of the new hall
resounded over the quiet countryside until the rumor of
him had spread to the remotest corners of Warwickshire
and Staffordshire. In Birmingham on the one side,
and in Coventry and Leamington on the other, there
was gossip as to his untold riches, his extraordinary
whims, and the remarkable life which he led. His name
was bandied from mouth to mouth, and a thousand ef-
forts were made to find out who and what he was. In
spite of all their pains, however, the newsmongers were
unable to discover the slightest trace of his antecedents,
or to form even a guess as to the secret of his riches.
It was no wonder that conjecture was rife upon the
subject, for hardly a day passed without furnishing some
new instance of the boundlessness of his power, and of
the goodness of his heart. Through the vicar, Robert,
and others, he had learned much of the inner life of the
parish, and many were the times when the struggling
man, harassed and driven to the wall, found, thrust into
his hands some morning, a brief note with an enclosure
which rolled all the sorrow back from his life. One day
a thick, double-breasted pea-jacket and a pair of good
sturdy boots were served out to every old man in the
almshouse. On another, Miss Swire, the decayed gen-
tlewoman who eked out her small annuity by needle-


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 61
heavy loss upon them, and the circumstance leaking out,
had caused a sudden and most dangerous run upon their
establishment. Urgent telegrams for bullion from all
their forty branches poured in at the very instant when
the head office was crowded with anxious clients, all
waving their deposit books and clamoring for their
money. Bravely did the two brothers with their staff
stand with smiling faces behind the shining counter,
while swift messengers sped, and telegrams flashed, to
draw in all the available resources of the bank. All day
the stream poured through the office, and when four
o'clock came, and the doors were closed for the day,
the street without was still blocked by the expectant
crowd, while there remained scarce a thousand pounds
of bullion in the cellars.
“It is only postponed, Louis,” said brother Rupert,
despairingly, when the last clerk had left the office, and
when at last they could relax the fixed smile upon their
haggard faces.
“Those shutters will never come down again,” cried
brother Louis, and the two suddenly burst out sobbing
in each other's arms, not for their own griefs, but for
the miseries which they might bring upon those who
had trusted them.
But who shall ever dare to say that there is no hope,
if he will but give his griefs to the world? That very
night Mrs. Spurling had received a letter from her old
school-friend, Mrs. Louis Garraweg, with all her fears
and her hopes poured out in it, and the whole sad story
of their troubles. Swift from the vicarage went the
message to the hall, and early next morning Mr. Raffles
Haw, with a great black carpet-bag in his hand, found
means to draw the cashier of the local branch of the
Bank of England from his breakfast, and to persuade


62 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
him to open his doors at unofficial hours. By half-past
nine the crowd had already begun to collect around Gar-
raweg's when a stranger, pale and thin, with a bloated
carpet-bag, was shown at his own very pressing request
into the bank parlor.
“It is no use, sir,” said the elder brother, humbly, as
they stood together encouraging each other to turn a
brave face to misfortune. “We can do no more. We
have little left, and it would be unfair to the others to
pay you now. We can but hope that when our assets
are realized no one will be the loser save ourselves.”
“I did not come to draw out, but to put in,” said
Raffles Haw, in his demure apologetic fashion. “I have
in my bag five thousand hundred-pound Bank of Eng-
land notes. If you will have the goodness to place them
to my credit account, I should be extremely obliged.”
“But, good heavens, sir,” stammered Rupert Garra-
weg, “have you not heard? Have you not seen? We
cannot allow you to do this thing blindfold. Can we,
Louis?”
“Most certainly not. We cannot recommend our
bank, sir, at the present moment, for there is a run
upon us, and we do not know to what lengths it may
go.”
“Tut! tut!” said Raffles Haw. “If the run continues
you must send me a wire, and I shall make a small addi-
tion to my account. You will send me a receipt by post.
Good-morning, gentlemen l’” He bowed himself out ere
the astonished partners could realize what had befallen
them, or raise their eyes from the huge black bag and
the visiting card which lay upon their table. There was
no great failure in Birmingham that day, and the house
of Garraweg still survives to enjoy the success which it
deserves.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 63
Such were the deeds by which Raffles Haw made him-
self known throughout the Midlands. And yet, in spite
of all his open-handedness, he was not a man to be im-
posed upon. In vain the sturdy beggar cringed at his
gate, and in vain the crafty letter-writer poured out a
thousand fabulous woes upon paper. Robert was aston-
ished, when he brought some tale of trouble to the hall,
to observe how swift was the perception of the recluse,
and how unerringly he could detect a flaw in a narrative,
or lay his finger upon the one point which rang false.
Were a man strong enough to help himself, or of such a
nature as to profit nothing by help, none would he get
from the master of the new hall. In vain, for example,
did old McIntyre throw himself continually across the
path of the millionaire, and impress upon him, by a
thousand hints and innuendoes, the hard fortune which
had been dealt him, and the ease with which his fallen
greatness might be restored. Raffles Haw listened po-
litely, bowed, smiled, but never showed the slightest in-
clination to restore the querulous old gunmaker to his
pedestal.
But if the recluse's wealth was a lure which drew the
beggars from far and near as a lamp draws the moths,
it had the same power of attraction upon another and
much more dangerous class. Strange hard faces were
seen in the village street, prowling figures were marked
at night stealing about among the fir plantations, and
warning messages arrived from city police and county
constabulary to say that evil visitors were known to
have taken train to Tamfield. But if, as Raffles Haw
held, there were few limits to the power of immense
wealth, it possessed among other things the power of
self-preservation as one or two people were to learn to
their cost.


66 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
“The poor burglars!" cried Laura. “It is no won-
der that they look bewildered, for I suppose, Mr. Haw,
that they neither know where they are nor how they
came there. I am so glad to know that you guard
yourself in this way, for I have often thought that you
ran a danger.”
“Have you so?” said he, smiling round at her. “I
think that my house is fairly burglar-proof. I have one
window which may be used as an entrance, the centre
one of the three of my laboratory. I keep it so because,
to tell the truth, I am somewhat of a night prowler my-
self, and when I treat myself to a ramble under the stars
I like to slip in and out without ceremony. It would
however be a fortunate rogue who picked the only safe
entrance out of a hundred, and even then he might find
pitfalls. Here is the constable, but you must not go,
for Miss McIntyre has still something to see in my little
place. If you will step into the billiard-room I will be
with you in a very few moments.”


68 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
beautiful mare, in case Miss McIntyre should care to
ride. Everything went to show that she had made a
conquest of the recluse of the new hall.
And she, on her side, played her part admirably.
With female adaptiveness she fell in with his humor and
looked at the world through his eyes. Her talk was of
alms-houses and free libraries, of charities and of im-
provements. He had never a scheme that she could not
add some detail to which made it more complete and
more effective. To Haw it seemed that at last he had
met a mind which was in absolute affinity with his own.
Here was a helpmate who could not only follow but
even lead him in the path which he had chosen.
Neither Robert nor his father could fail to see what
was going forward, but to the latter nothing could pos-
sibly be more acceptable than a family tie which should
connect him, however indirectly, with a man of vast
fortune. The glamour of the gold bags had crept over
Robert also, and froze the remonstrance upon his lips.
It was very pleasant to have the handling of all this
wealth, even as a mere agent. Why should he do or
say what might disturb their present happy relations?
It was his sister's business, not his, and as to Hector
Spurling, he must take his chance, as other men did.
It was obviously best not to move one way or the other
in the matter.
But to Robert himself, his work and his surroundings
were becoming more and more irksome. His joy in
his art had become less keen since he had known Raf-
fles Haw. It seemed so hard to toil and slave to earn
such a trifling sum when money could really be had for
the asking. It was true that he had asked for none, but
large sums were forever passing through his hands for
those who were needy, and if he were needy himself his


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 69
friend would surely not grudge it to him. So the Ro-
man galleys still remained faintly outlined upon the
great canvas, while Robert's days were spent either in
the luxurious library at the hall, or in strolling about
the country listening to tales of trouble, and returning
like a tweed-suited ministering angel to carry Raffles
Haw's help to the unfortunate. It was not an ambitious
life, but it was one which was very congenial to his weak
and easy-going nature.
Robert had observed that fits of depression had fre-
quently come upon the millionaire, and it had some-
times struck him that the enormous sums which he
spent had possibly made a serious inroad into his capi-
tal, and that his mind was troubled as to the future.
His abstracted manner, his clouded brow, and his bent
head all spoke of a soul that was weighed down with
care, and it was only in Laura's presence that he could
throw off the load of his secret trouble. For five hours
a day he buried himself in the laboratory and amused
himself with his hobby, but it was one of his whims that
no one, neither any of his servants, nor even Laura or
Robert, should ever cross the threshold of that outlying
building. Day after day he vanished into it, to reap-
pear hours afterward pale and exhausted, while the
whirr of machinery and the smoke which streamed
from his high chimney showed how considerable were
the operations which he undertook single-handed.
“Could I not assist you in any way?” suggested Rob-
ert, as they sat together after luncheon in the smoking-
room. “I am convinced that you over-try your strength.
I should be so glad to help you, and I know a little of
chemistry.”
“Do you, indeed?” said Raffles Haw, raising his
eye brows. “I had no idea of that. It is so very sel-


70 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
dom that the artistic and the scientific faculties go to-
gether.”
“I don't know that I have either particularly devel-
oped, but I have taken classes, and I worked for two
years in the laboratory at Sir Josiah Mason's Institute.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” Haw replied, with em-
phasis. “That may be of great importance to us. It is
very possible—indeed almost certain—that I shall avail
myself of your offer of assistance, and teach you some-
thing of my chemical methods, which I may say differ
considerably from those of the orthodox school. The
time, however, is hardly ripe for that. What is it,
Jones?”
“A note, sir.” The butler handed it in upon a silver
salver. Haw broke the seal and ran his eye over it.
“Tut! tut! It is from Lady Morsley, asking me to
the Lord Lieutenant's ball. I cannot possibly accept.
It is very kind of them, but I do wish they would leave
me alone. Very well, Jones. I shall write. Do you
know, Robert, I am often very unhappy.” He fre-
quently called the young artist by his Christian name,
especially in his more confidential moments.
“I have sometimes feared that you were,” said the
other, sympathetically. “But how strange it seems, you
who are yet young, healthy, with every faculty for enjoy-
ment, and a millionaire.”
“Ah, Robert,” cried Haw, leaning back in his chair,
and sending up thick blue wreaths from his pipe. “You
have put your finger upon my trouble. If I were a mill-
ionaire I might be happy, but alas I am no million-
aire.”
“Good heavens !” gasped Robert. Cold seemed to
shoot to his inmost soul as it flashed upon him that this
was a prelude to a confession of impending bankruptcy,


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 71
y
and that all this glorious life, all the excitement and the
color and change were about to vanish into thin air.
“No millionaire l’ he stammered.
“No, Robert. I am a billionaire—perhaps the only
one in the world. That is what is on my mind, and why
I am unhappy sometimes. I feel that I should spend
this money—that I should put it in circulation—and yet
it is so hard to do it without failing to do good—with-
out doing positive harm. I feel my responsibility deep-
ly. It weighs me down. Am I justified in continuing
to live this quiet life when there are so many millions
whom I might save and comfort if I could but reach
them.”
Robert heaved a long sigh of relief. “Perhaps you
take too grave a view of your responsibilities,” he said.
“Everybody knows that the good which you have done
is immense. What more could you desire? If you
really wish to extend your benevolence further there
are organized charities everywhere which would be very
glad of your help.” -
“I have the names of two hundred and seventy of
them,” Haw answered. “You must run your eye over
them some time and see if you can suggest any others.
I send my annual mite to each of them. I don't think
there is much room for expansion in that direction.”
“Well, really, you have done your share, and more
than your share. I would settle down to lead a happy
life and think no more of the matter.”
“I could not do that,” Haw answered, earnestly ; “I
have not been singled out to wield this immense power
simply in order that I might lead a happy life. I can
never believe that. Now, can you not use your imag-
ination, Robert, and devise methods by which a man
who has command of—well, let us say for argument's


72 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
sake, of boundless wealth, could benefit mankind by it,
without taking away anyone's independence or in any
way doing harm?”
“Well, really, now that I come to think of it, it is a
very difficult problem,” said Robert.
“Now I will submit a few schemes to you, and you
may give me your opinion on them. Supposing that
such a man were to buy ten square miles of ground here
in Staffordshire, and were to build upon it a neat city
consisting entirely of clean, comfortable, four-roomed
houses, furnished in a simple style, with shops and so
forth, but no public houses. Supposing, too, that he
was to offer a house free to all the homeless folk, all the
tramps, and broken men, and out-of-workers in Great
Britain. Then, having collected them together, let him
employ them, under fitting superintendence, upon some
colossal piece of work which would last for many years,
and perhaps be a permanent value to humanity. Give
them a good rate of pay and let their hours of labor be
reasonable, and those of recreation be pleasant. Might
you not benefit them and benefit humanity at one
stroke?”
“But what form of work could you devise which
would employ so vast a number for so long a time, and
yet not compete with any existing industry? To do the
latter would simply mean to shift the misery from one
class to another.”
“Precisely so. I should compete with no one. What
I thought of doing was of sinking a shaft through the
earth's crust and of establishing rapid communication
with the antipodes. When you had got a certain dis-
tance down—how far is an interesting mathematical
problem—the centre of gravity would be beneath you,
presuming that your boring was not quite directed


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 73
toward the centre, and you could then lay down rails
and tunnel as if you were on a level.”
Then for the first time it flashed into Robert McIn-
tyre's head that his father's chance words were correct,
and that he was in the presence of a madman. His
great wealth had clearly turned his brain and made
him a monomaniac. He nodded indulgently as when
one humors a child.
“It would be very nice,” he said. “I have heard,
however, that the interior of the earth is molten, and
your workmen would need to be salamanders.”
“The latest scientific data do not bear out the idea
that the earth is so hot,” answered Raffles Haw. “It
is certain that the increased temperature in coal mines
depends upon the barometric pressure. There are
gases in the earth which may be ignited, and there are
combustible materials, as we see in the volcanoes, but
if we come across anything of the sort in our borings
we could turn a river or two down the shaft, and get
the better of it in that fashion.”
“It would be rather awkward if the other end of
your shaft came out under the Pacific Ocean,” said Rob-
ert, choking down his inclination to laugh.
“I have had estimates and calculations from the first
living engineers, French, English, and American. The
point of exit of the tunnel could be calculated to the
yard. That portfolio in the corner is full of sections,
plans, and diagrams. I have agents employed in buying
up land, and if all goes well we may get to work in the
autumn. That is one device which may produce results
Another is canal cutting.”
“Ah, there you would compete with the railways.”
“You don't quite understand. I intend to cut canals
through every neck of land where such a convenience


74 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
would facilitate commerce. Such a scheme, when un-
accompanied by any toll upon vessels, would, I think, be
a very judicious way of helping the human race.”
“And where, pray, would you cut the canals?" asked
Robert.
“I have a map of the world here,” Haw answered,
rising and taking one down from the paper-rack. “You
see the blue pencil-marks. Those are the points where
I propose to establish communication. Of course I
should begin by the obvious duty of finishing the Pan-
ama business.” -
“Naturally l’” The man's lunacy was becoming more
and more obvious, and yet there was such precision and
coolness in his manner that Robert found himself, against
his own reason, endorsing and speculating over his
plans.
“The Isthmus of Corinth also occurs to me. That,
however, is a small matter from either a financial or an
engineering point of view. I propose, however, to make
a juncture here, through Kiel, between the German
Ocean and the Baltic. It saves, you will observe, the
whole journey round the coast of Denmark, and would
facilitate our trade with Germany and Russia. Another
very obvious improvement is to join the Forth and
Clyde, so as to connect Keith with the Irish and Ameri-
can routes. You see the blue line "
“Quite so.”
“And we will have a little cutting here. It will run
from Uleaborg to Kern, and will connect the White Sea
with the Gulf of Bothnia. We must not allow our sym-
pathies to be insular, must we? Our little charities
should be cosmopolitan. We will try and give the
good people of Archangel a better outlet for their furs
and their tallow.”


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HATW. 75
“But it will freeze.”
“For six months in the year. Still it will be some-
thing. Then we must do something for the East. It
would never do to overlook the East.”
“It would certainly be an oversight,” said Robert,
who was keenly alive to the comical side of the question.
Raffles Haw, however, in deadly earnest, sat scratching
away at his map with his blue pencil.
“Here is a point where we might be of some little
use. If we cut through from Batoum to the Kura River
we might tap the trade of the Caspian and open up com-
munication with all the rivers which run into it. You
notice that they include a considerable tract of country.
Then again, I think we might venture upon a little cut-
ting between Beirut, on the Mediterranean, and the
upper waters of the Euphrates, which would lead us into
the Persian Gulf. Those are one or two of the more ob-
vious canals which might knit the human race into a
closer whole.”
“Your plans are certainly stupendous,” said Robert,
uncertain whether to laugh or to be awe-struck. “You
will cease to be a man, and become one of the great
forces of nature, altering, moulding, and improving.” .
“That is precisely the view which I take of myself.
That is why I feel my responsibility so acutely.”
“But surely, if you will do all this you may rest. It
is a considerable programme.”
“Not at all. I am a patriotic Briton, and I should like
to do something to leave my name in the annals of my
country. I should like, however, to do it after my own
death, as anything in the shape of publicity and honors
is very offensive to me. I have therefore put by eight
hundred million in a place which shall be duly men-
tioned in my will, which I propose to devote to paying


CHAPTER IX.
A N E W D EP A R TU R E.
Whatever good Mr. Raffles Haw's wealth did the
world, there could be no doubt that there were cases
where it did harm. The very contemplation and thought
of it had upon many a disturbing and mischievous ef-
fect. Especially was this the case with the old gun-
maker. From being merely a querulous and grasping
man, he had now become bitter, brooding, and danger-
ous. Week by week, as he saw the tide of wealth flow,
as it were, through his very house without being able to
divert the smallest rill to nourish his own fortunes, he
became more wolfish and more hungry-eyed. He spoke
less of his own wrongs, but he brooded more, and would
stand for hours on Tamfield Hill looking down at the
great palace beneath, as a thirst-stricken man might
gaze at the desert mirage.
He had worked and peeped and pried, too, until there
were points upon which he knew more than either his
son or his daughter.
“I suppose that you still don't know where your
friend gets his money?” he remarked to Robert one
morning, as they walked together through the village.
“No, father, I do not. I only know that he spends it
very well.”
“Well!” snarled the old man. “Yes, very well ! He
has helped every tramp and slut and worthless vagabond
over the country-side, but he will not advance a pound,


IS THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
even on the best security, to help a respectable business
man to fight against misfortune.”
“My dear father, I really cannot argue with you about
it,” said Robert. “I have already told you more than
once what I think. Mr. Haw's object is to help those
who are destitute. He looks upon us as his equals, and
would not presume to patronize us, or to act as if we
could not help ourselves. It would be a humiliation to
us to take his money.”
“Pshaw! Besides it is only a question of an advance,
and advances are made every day among business men.
How can you talk such nonsense, Robert?” Early as it
was, his son could see from his excited, quarrelsome
manner that the old man had been drinking. The habit
had grown upon him of late, and it was seldom now that
he was entirely sober.
“Mr. Raffles Haw is the best judge,” said Robert,
coldly. “If he earns the money, he has a right to
spend it as he likes.”
“And how does he earn it? You don't know, Rob-
ert. You don't know that you are aiding and abetting
a felony when you help him to flitter it away. Was
ever so much money earned in an honest fashion? I
tell you there never was. I tell you also that lumps of
gold are no more to that man than chunks of coal to the
miners overyonder. He could build his house of them
and think nothing of it.”
“I know that he is very rich, father. I think, how-
ever, that he has an extravagant way of talking some-
times, and that his imagination carries him away. I
have heard him talk of plans which the richest man
upon earth could not possibly hope to carry through.”
“Don’t you make any mistake, my son. Your poor
old father isn't quite a fool, though he is only an honest


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 79
broken merchant.” He looked up sideways at his son
with a wink and a most unpleasant leer. “Where
there's money, I can smell it. There is money there,
and heaps of it. It's my belief that he is the richest
man in the world, though, how he came to be so, I
should not like to guarantee. I’m not quite blind yet,
Robert. Have you seen the weekly wagon?”
“The weekly wagon l’”
“Yes, Robert. You see I can find some news for
you yet. It is due this morning. Every Saturday
morning you will see the wagon come in. Why, here
it is now, as I am a living man, coming round the curve.”
Robert glanced back and saw a great heavy wagon,
drawn by two strong horses, lumbering slowly along the
road which led to the new hall. From the efforts of the
animals and its slow pace, the contents seemed to be of
great weight.
“Just you wait here,” cried old McIntyre, plucking
at his son's sleeve with his thin bony hand. “Wait
here and see it pass. Then we will watch what becomes
Of it.”
They stood by the side of the road until it came abreast
of them. The wagon was covered with tarpaulin sheet-
ings in front and at the sides, but behind some glimpse
could be caught of the contents. They consisted, as far
as Robert could see, of a number of packets of the same
shape, each about two feet long and six inches high, ar-
ranged symmetrically upon the top of each other. Each
packet was surrounded by a covering of coarse sacking.
“What do you think of that?” asked old McIntyre,
triumphantly, as the load creaked past.
“Why, father? What do you make of it?”
“I have watched it, Robert ; I have watched it every
Saturday, and I had my chance of looking a little deeper


80 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
into it. You remember the day when the elm blew down
and the road was blocked until they could saw it in two.
That was on a Saturday, and the wagon came to a stand
until they could clear a way for it. I was there, Robert,
and I saw my chance. Istrolled behind the wagon, and
I placed my hands upon one of those packets. They
look small, do they not? It would take a strong man to
lift one. They are heavy, Robert, heavy, and hard with
the hardness of metal. I tell you, boy, that that wagon
is loaded with gold.”
“Gold !”
“With solid bars of gold, Robert. But come into the
plantation, and we shall see what becomes of it.”
They passed through the lodge gates, behind the
wagon, and then wandered off among the fir-trees until
they gained a spot where they could command a view.
The load had halted, not in front of the house, but at
the door of the outbuilding with the chimney. A staff
of stablemen and footmen were in readiness, who pro-
ceeded to swiftly unload, and to carry the packages
through the door. It was the first time that Robert
had ever seen anyone, save the master of the house, en-
ter the laboratory. No sign was seen of him now,
however, and in half an hour the contents had all been
safely stored, and the wagon had driven briskly away.
“I cannot understand it, father,” said Robert, thought-
fully, as they resumed their walk. “Supposing that your
supposition is correct, who would send him such quan-
tities of gold, and where could it come from ?”
“Ha, you have to come to the old man after all,”
chuckled his companion. “I can see the little game.
It is clear enough to me. There are two of them in it.
You understand. The other one gets the gold. Never
mind how, but we will hope that there is no harm.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 81
Let us suppose, for example, that they have found a
marvellous mine, where you can just shovel it out, like
clay from that pit. Well then, he sends it on to this
one, and he has his furnaces and his chemicals, and he
refines and purifies and makes it fit to sell. That's my
explanation of it, Robert. Eh, has the old man put his
finger on it?”
“But if that were true, father, the gold must go back
again.”
“So it does, Robert, but a little at a time. Ah ha,
I’ve had my eyes open, you see. Every night it goes
down in a small cart and is sent on to London by the
seven-forty. Not in bars this time, but done up in iron-
bound chests. I’ve seen them, boy, and I’ve had this
hand upon them.”
“Well,” said the young man, thoughtfully, “may be
you are right. It is possible that you are.”
While father and son were prying into his secrets,
Raffles Haw had found his way to Elmdene, where Laura
sat reading The Queen by the fire.
“I am so sorry,” she said, throwing down her paper
and springing to her feet. “They are all out except
me. But I am sure that they won't be long. I expect
Robert every moment.”
“I would rather speak to you alone,” answered Raffles
Haw, quietly. “Pray sit down, for I wanted to have a
little chat with you.”
Laura resumed her seat with a flush upon her cheeks
and a quickening of her breath. She turned her face
away and gazed into the fire, but there was a sparkle in
her eyes which was not caught from the leaping flames.
“Do you remember the first time that we met, Miss
McIntyre?” he asked, standing on the rug, and looking
3.


82 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
down at her dark hair and the beautifully feminine curve
of her ivory neck.
“As if it were yesterday,” she answered, in her sweet,
mellow tones.
“Then you must also remember the wild words that I
said when we parted. It was very foolish of me. I am
sure that I am most sorry if I frightened or disturbed
you, but I have been a very solitary man for a long time,
and I have dropped into a bad habit of thinking aloud.
Your voice, your face, your manner were all so like my
ideal of a true woman, loving, faithful, and sympathetic,
that I could not help wondering whether if I were a
poor man I might ever hope to win the affection of such
a one.”
“Your good opinion, Mr. Raffles Haw, is very dear to
me,” said Laura. “I assure you that I was not fright-
ened, and that there is no need to apologize for what
was really a compliment.”
“Since then I have found,” he continued, “that all
that I had read upon your face was true; that your
mind is indeed that of the true woman, full of the noblest
and sweetest qualities which human nature can aspire
to. You know that I am a man of fortune, but I wish
you to dismiss that consideration from your mind. Do
you think, from what you know of my character, that
you could be happy as my wife, Laura”
She made no answer, but still sat with her head
turned away, and her sparkling eyes fixed upon the
fire. One little foot from under her skirt tapped ner-
vously upon the rug.
“It is only right that you should know a little more
about me before you decide. There is, however, little
to know. I am an orphan, and, as far as I know, with-
out a relation upon earth. My father was a respectable


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 83
man, a country surgeon in Wales, and he brought me up
to his own profession. Before I had passed my exam-
inations, however, he died and left me a small annuity.
I had conceived a great liking for the subjects of chem-
istry and of electricity, and instead of going on with my
medical work, I devoted myself entirely to these studies,
and eventually built myself a laboratory where I could
follow out my own researches. At about this time I
came into a very large sum of money, so large as to make
me feel that a vast responsibility rested upon me in the
use which I made of it. After some thought I deter-
mined to build a large house in a quiet part of the coun-
try, not too far from a great centre. There I would be
in touch with the world, and yet would have quiet and
leisure to mature the schemes which were in my head.
As it chanced, I chose Tamfield as my site. All that
remains now is to carry out the plans which I have
made, and to endeavor to lighten the earth of some
of the misery and injustice which weigh it down. I
again ask you, Laura, will you throw in your lot with
mine, and help me in the life's work which lies before
me?”
Laura looked up at him, at his stringy figure, his pale
face, his keen and yet gentle eyes. Somehow, as she
looked there seemed to form itself beside him some
shadow of Hector Spurling, the manly features, the
clear, firm mouth, the frank eyes. Now, in the very mo.
ment of her triumph it sprang clearly up in her mind
how at the hour of their ruin he had stood firmly by
them, and had loved the penniless girl as tenderly as
the heiress to fortune. That last embrace at the door,
too, came back to her, and she felt his lips warm upon
her own.
“I am very much honored, Mr. Haw,” she stammered.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 85
quite sure, dear Hector, that when you are an admiral
and a very distinguished man, you will look back at this,
and you will see that I have been a true friend to you,
and have prevented you from making a false step early
in your career. For myself, whether I marry or not, I
have determined to devote the remainder of my life to
trying to do good, and to leaving the world happier
than I found it. Your father is very well, and gave us a
capital sermon last Sunday. I enclose the banknote
which you asked me to keep for you. Good-by forever,
dear Hector, and believe me when I say that, come what
may, I am ever your true friend,
“LAURA S. McINTYRE.”
She had hardly sealed up the letter before her father
and Robert returned. She closed the door behind them,
and made them a little courtesy.
“I await my family's congratulations,” she said, with
her head in the air. “Raffles Haw has been here, and
he has asked me to be his wife.”
“The deuce he did l’ cried the old man; “and you
said 2 °
“I am to see him again.”
“And you will say?”
“I will accept him.”
“You were always a good girl, Laura,” said old McIn-
tyre, standing on his tiptoes to kiss her.
“But Laura, Laura, how about Hector ?” asked Rob-
ert, in mild remonstrance.
“Oh, I have written to him,” his sister answered, care-
lessly. “I wish you would be good enough to post the
letter.”


CHAPTER X.
THE GREAT SECRET.
And so Laura McIntyre became duly engaged to
Raffles Haw, and old McIntyre grew even more hungry-
looking as he felt himself a step nearer to the source of
wealth; while Robert thought less of work than ever,
and never gave as much as a thought to the great canvas
which still stood, dust-covered, upon his easel. Haw
gave Laura an engagement ring of old gold with a great
blazing diamond bulging out of it. There was little
talk about the matter, however, for it was Haw's wish
that all should be done very quietly. Nearly all his
evenings were spent at Elmdene, where he and Laura
would build up the most colossal schemes of philan-
thropy for the future. With a map stretched out on
the table in front of them, these two young people
would, as it were, hover over the world, planning, de-
vising, and improving.
“Bless the girl!” said old McIntyre to his son, “she
speaks about it as if she were born to millions. Maybe,
when once she is married, she won't be so ready to chuck
her money into every mad scheme that her husband can
think of.”
“Laura is greatly changed,” Robert answered; “she
has grown much more serious in her ideas.”
“You wait a bit!” sniggered his father; “she is a good
girl, is Laura, and she knows what she is about. She's
not a girl to let her old dad go to the wall, if she can


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 87
set him right. It's a pretty state of things,” he added,
bitterly. “Here's my daughter going to marry a man
who thinks no more of gold than I used to of gun-metal,
and here's my son going about with all the money he
cares to ask for to help every ne'er-do-well in Stafford-
shire, and here's their father, who loved them and cared
for them, and brought them both up, without money
enough very often to buy a bottle of brandy. I don't
know what your poor dear mother would have thought
of it.”
“You have only to ask for what you want.”
“Yes, as if I were a five-year-old child. But I tell
you, Robert, I'll have my rights, and if I can't get them
one way I will another. I won't be treated as if I were
no one. And there's one thing. If I am to be this
man's pa-in-law, I'll want to know something about him
and his money first. We may be poor, but we are hon-
est. I'll up to the hall now, and have it out with him.”
He seized his hat and stick and made for the door.
“No, no, father,” cried Robert, catching him by the
sleeve. “You had better leave the matter alone. Mr.
Haw is a very sensitive man. He would not like to be
examined upon such a point. It might lead to a serious
quarrel. I beg that you will not go.”
“I am not to be put off forever,” snarled the old man,
who had been drinking heavily. “I’ll put my foot down
now, once and forever.” He tugged at his sleeve to free
himself from his son's grasp.
“At least you shall not go without Laura knowing.
I will call her down, and we shall have her opinion.”
“Oh, I don't want to have any scenes,” said McIntyre,
sulkily, relaxing his efforts. He lived in dread of his
daughter, and at his worst moments the mention of her
name would serve to restrain him.


88 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW
“Besides,” said Robert, “I have not the slightest
doubt that Raffles Haw will see the necessity for giving
us some sort of explanation before matters go further.
He must understand that we have some claim now to
be taken into his confidence.”
He had hardly spoken when there was a tap at the
door, and the man of whom they were speaking walked
1Il.
“Good-morning, Mr. McIntyre,” said he ; “Robert,
would you mind stepping up to the hall with me. I
want to have a little business chat” He looked serious,
like a man who is carrying out something which he has
well weighed.
They walked up together with hardly a word on either
side. Raffles Haw was absorbed in his own thoughts.
Robert felt expectant and nervous, for he knew that
something of importance lay before him. The winter
was almost past now, and the first young shoots were
beginning to peep out timidly in the face of the wind
and the rain of an English March. The snows were
gone, but the country-side looked bleaker and drearier,
all shrouded in the haze from the damp sodden mead-
OWS.
“By the way, Robert,” said Raffles Haw, suddenly, as
they walked up the avenue. “Has your great Roman
picture gone to London?”
“I have not finished it yet.”
“But I know that you are a quick worker. You must
be nearly at the end of it.”
“No, I am afraid that it has not advanced much since
you saw it. For one thing, the light has not been very
good.”
Raffles Haw said nothing, but a pained expression
flashed over his face. When they reached the house he


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HATW. 89
led the way through the museum. Two great metal
cases were lying on the floor.
“I have a small addition there to the gem collection,”
he remarked as he passed. “They only arrived last
night, and I have not opened them yet, but I am given
to understand from the letters and invoices that there
are some fine specimens. We might arrange them this
afternoon, if you care to assist me. Let us go into the
smoking-room now.”
He threw himself down into a settee and motioned
Robert into the arm-chair in front of him.
“Light a cigar,” he said. “Press the spring if there
is any refreshment which you would like. Now, my
dear Robert, confess to me in the first place that you
have often thought me mad.”
The charge was so direct and so true that the young
artist hesitated, hardly knowing how to answer.
“My dear boy, I do not blame you. It was the most
natural thing in the world. I should have looked upon
anyone as a madman who had talked to me as I have
talked to you. But for all that, Robert, you were wrong,
and I have never yet in our conversations proposed any
scheme which it was not well within my power to carry
out. I tell you in all sober earnest that the amount of
my income is limited only by my desire, and that all
the bankers and financiers combined could not furnish
the sums which I can put forward without an effort.”
“I have had ample proof of your immense wealth,”
said Robert.
“And you are very naturally curious as to how that
wealth was obtained. Well, I can tell you one thing.
The money is perfectly clean. I have robbed no one,
cheated no one, sweated no one, ground no one down
in the gaining of it. I can read your father's eye, Rob-


90 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
ert. I can see that he has done me an injustice in this
matter. Well, perhaps he is not to be blamed. Per-
haps I also might think uncharitable things if I were in
his place. But that is why I now give an explanation
to you, Robert, and not to him. You at least have
trusted me, and you have a right, before I become one
of your family, to know all that I can tell you. Laura
also has trusted me, but I know well that she is content
still to trust me.”
“I would not intrude upon your secrets, Mr. Haw,”
said Robert, “but of course I cannot deny that I should
be very proud and pleased if you cared to confide them
to me.”
“And I will. Not all. I do not think that I shall
ever, while I live, tell all. But I shall leave directions
behind me, so that if I die you may be able to carry
on my unfinished work. I shall tell you where those
directions are to be found. In the meantime you must
be content to learn the effects which I produce without
knowing every detail as to the means.”
Robert settled himself down in his chair and concen-
trated his attention upon his companion's words, while
Haw bent forward his eager, earnest face like a man who
knows the value of the words which he is saying
“You are already aware,” he remarked, “that I have
devoted a great deal of energy and of time to the study
of chemistry.”
“So you told me.”
“I commenced my studies under a famous English
chemist, I continued them under the best man in France,
and I completed them in the most celebrated laboratory
of Germany. I was not rich, but my father had left me
enough to keep me comfortably, and by living economi-
cally I had a sum at my command which enabled me to


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 91
carry out my studies in a very complete way. When I
returned to England I built myself a laboratory in a
quiet country place, where I could work without dis-
traction or interruption. There I began a series of in-
vestigations which soon took me into regions of science
to which none of the three famous men who taught me
had ever penetrated.
“You say, Robert, that you have some slight knowl-
edge of chemistry, and you will find it easier to follow
what I say. Chemistry is, to a large extent, an empiri-
cal science, and the chance experiment may lead to
greater results than could, with our present data, be
derived from the closest study or the keenest reason-
ing. The most important chemical discoveries, from
the first manufacture of glass to the whitening and re-
fining of sugar, have all been due to some happy chance
which might have befallen a mere dabbler as easily as
a deep student.
“Well, it was to such a chance that my own great dis-
covery—perhaps the greatest that the world has seen—
was due, though I may claim the credit of having orig-
inated the line of thought which led up to it. I had
frequently speculated as to the effect which powerful
currents of electricity exercise upon any substance
through which they are poured for a considerable time.
I do not here mean such feeble currents as are passed
along a telegraph wire, but I mean the very highest pos-
sible developments. Well, I tried a series of experi-
ments upon this point. I found that in liquids and in
compounds the force had a disintegrating effect. The
well-known experiment of the electrolysis of water will
of course occur to you. But I found that in the case of
elemental solids the effect was a remarkable one. The
element slowly decreased in weight, without perceptibly


92 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HA. W.
altering in composition. I hope that I make myself clear
to you.”
“I follow you entirely,” said Robert, deeply inter-
ested in his companion's narrative.
“I tried upon several elements, and always with the
same result. In every case an hour's current would pro-
duce a perceptible loss of weight. My theory at that
stage was that there was a loosening of the molecules
caused by the electric fluid, and that a certain number
of these molecules were shed off like an impalpable dust
all round the lump of earth or of metal, which remained
of course the lighter by their loss. I had entirely ac-
cepted this theory when a very remarkable chance led
me to completely alter my opinions.
“I had, one Saturday night, fastened a bar of bismuth
in a clamp, and had attached it on either side to an
electric wire in order to observe what effect the current
would have upon it. I had been testing each metal in
turn, exposing them to the influence for from one to
two hours. I had just got everything in position and
had completed my connection, when I received a tele-
gram to say that John Stillingfleet, an old chemist in
London with whom I had been on terms of intimacy,
was dangerously ill, and had expressed a wish to see
me. The last train was due to leave in twenty minutes,
and I lived a good mile from the station. I thrust a
few things into a bag, locked my laboratory, and ran as
hard as I could to catch it.
“It was not until I was in London that it suddenly
occurred to me that I had neglected to shut off the cur-
rent, and that it would continue to pass through the bar
of bismuth until the batteries were exhausted. The fact
however seemed to be of small importance, and I dis-
missed it from my mind. I was detained in London


94 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
hausted batteries and passed the current through the
bowl of quicksilver. For sixteen hours I sat watching
the metal, marking how it slowly seemed to curdle, to
grow firmer, to lose its silvery glitter, and to take a
dull yellow hue. When I at last picked it up in a for-
ceps and threw it upon the table, it had lost every char-
acteristic of mercury, and had obviously become another
metal. A few simple tests were enough to show me that
this other metal was platinum.
“Now, to a chemist there was something very suggest-
ive in the order in which these changes had been effect-
ed. Perhaps you can see the relation, Robert, which
they bear to each other?”
“No, I cannot say that I do.” Robert had sat listen-
ing to this strange statement with parted lips and star-
ing eyes.
“I will show you. Bismuth is the heaviest of the
metals. Its atomic weight is 210. The next in weight
is lead, 207, and then comes mercury, at 200. Possibly
the long period during which the current had acted in
my absence had reduced the bismuth to lead, and the
lead in turn to mercury. Now, platinum stands at
197.5, and it was accordingly the next metal to be
produced by the continued current. Do you see,
pow?”
“It is quite clear.”
“And then there came the inference, which sent my
heart into my mouth and caused my head to swim round.
Gold is the next in the series. Its atomic weight is 197.
I remembered now, and for the first time understood,
why it was that it was always lead and mercury which
were mentioned by the old alchemists as being the two
metals which might be used in their calling. With fin-
gers which trembled with excitement I adjusted the


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HATW. 95
wires again, and in little more than an hour—for the
length of the process was always in proportion to the
difference in the metals—I had before me a knob of
ruddy crinkled metal which answered to every reaction
for gold.
“Well, Robert, this is a long story, but I think that
you will agree with me that its importance justifies me in
going into detail. When I had satisfied myself that I
had really manufactured gold, I cut the nugget in two.
One-half I sent to a jeweller and worker in precious
metals with whom I had some slight acquaintance,
asking him to report upon the quality of the metal.
With the other half I continued my series of experi-
ments, and reduced it in successive stages through all
the long series of metals, through silver and zinc and
manganese, until I had brought it to lithium, which is
the lightest of all.”
“And what did it turn to then 2 ” asked Robert.
“Then came what to chemists is likely to be the most
interesting portion of my discovery. It turned to a
grayish fine powder, which powder gave no further re-
sults however much I might treat it with electricity.
And that powder is the base of all things, it is the
mother of all the elements, it is in short the substance
whose existence has been recently surmised by a lead-
ing chemist, and which has been christened protyle by
him. I am the discoverer of the great law of the elec-
trical transposition of the metals, and I am the first
to demonstrate protyle; so that, I think, Robert, that
if all my schemes in other directions come to noth-
ing, my name is at least likely to live in the chemical
world.
“There is not very much more for me to tell you. I
had my nugget back from my friend the jeweller, son-


96 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
firming my opinion as to its nature and its quality. I
soon found several methods by which the process might
be simplified, and especially a modification of the ordi-
nary electric current, which was very much more effect-
ive. Having made a certain amount of gold, I disposed
of it for a sum which enabled me to buy improved ma-
terials and stronger batteries. In this way I enlarged
my operations, until at last I was in a position to build
this house and to have a laboratory where I could carry
out my work on a much larger scale. As I said before,
I can now state with all truth that the amount of my in-
come is only limited by my desires.”
“It is wonderful!” gasped Robert. “It is like a fairy
tale. But with this great discovery in your mind, you
must have been sorely tempted to confide it to others.”
“I thought well over it. I gave it every considera-
tion. It was obvious to me that if my invention were
made public, its immediate result would be to deprive
the present precious metals of all their special value.
Some other substance, amber, we will say, or ivory,
would be chosen as a medium for barter, and gold would
be inferior in value to brass, as being heavier and yet
not so hard. No one would be the better for such a
consummation as that. Now, if I retained my secret,
and used it with wisdom, I might make myself the great-
est benefactor to mankind that has ever lived. Those
were the chief reasons, and I trust that they are not dis-
honorable ones, which led me to form the resolution
which I have to-day for the first time broken.”
“But your secret is safe with me,” cried Robert.
“My lips shall be sealed until I have your permission
to speak.”
“If I had not known that I could trust you, I should
have withheld it from your knowledge. And now, my


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HATW 97
dear Robert, theory is very weary work, and practice is
infinitely more interesting. I have given you more than
enough of the first. If you will be good enough to ac-
company me to the laboratory, I shall give you a little
of the latter.”
**


CHAPTER XL
A CHEMICAL DEMONSTRATION.
Raffles Haw led the way through the front door, and
crossing over the gravelled drive, pushed open the outer
door of the laboratory—the same through which the
McIntyres had seen the packages conveyed from the
wagon. On passing through it Robert found that they
were not really within the building, but merely in a
large bare antechamber, around the walls of which were
stacked the very objects which had aroused his curi-
osity and his father's speculations. All mystery had
gone from them now, however, for while some were
still wrapped in their sackcloth coverings, others had
been undone and revealed themselves as great pigs of
lead.
“There is my raw material,” said Raffles Haw, care-
lessly, nodding at the heap. “Every Saturday I have a
wagon load sent up, which serves me for a week, but we
shall need to work double-tides when Laura and I are
married, and we get our great schemes under weigh. I
have to be very careful about the quality of the lead, for
of course every impurity is reproduced in the gold.”
A heavy iron door led into the inner chamber. Haw
unlocked it, but only to disclose a second one about
five feet further on.
“This flooring is all disconnected at night,” he re-
marked; “I have no doubt that there is a good deal of
gossip in the servants' hall about this sealed chamber,


100 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES IIA W.
“You see that I have rather an accumulation just now.
My imports have been exceeding my exports. You can
understand that I have other and more important duties,
even than the making of gold, just now. This is where
I store my output until I am ready to send it off. Every
night almost I am in the habit of sending a case of it to
London. I employ seventeen brokers in its sale. Each
thinks that he is the only one, and each is dying to
know where I can get such large quantities of virgin
gold. They say that it is the purest which comes into
the market. The popular theory is, I believe, that I am
a middleman acting on behalf of some new South Afri-
can mine which wishes to keep its whereabouts a secret.
What value would you put upon the gold in this cham-
ber? It ought to be worth something, for it represents
nearly a week's work.”
“Something fabulous, I have no doubt,” said Robert,
glancing round at the yellow barriers. “Shall I say a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds?”
“Oh, dear me, it is surely worth very much more
than that,” cried Raffles Haw, laughing ; “let me see.
Suppose that we put it at three-ten an ounce, which is
nearly ten shillings under the mark. That makes, rough-
ly, fifty-six pounds for a pound in weight. Now, each
of these ingots weighs thirty-six pounds, which brings
their value to two thousand and a few odd pounds.
There are five hundred ingots on each of these three
sides of the room, but on the fourth there are only three
hundred on account of the door; but there cannot be
less than two hundred on the floor, which gives us a
rough total of two thousand ingots. So you see, my
dear boy, that any broker who could get the contents of
this chamber for four million pounds would be doing a
nice little stroke of business.”


102 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
ole of golden sparks which hissed and snapped like pis-
tol-shots. The air was filled with the peculiar acid smell
of ozone.
“The power there is immense,” said Raffles Haw,
superintending the process, with his watch upon the
palm of his hand. “It would reduce an organic sub-
stance to protyle instantly. It is well to understand the
mechanism thoroughly, for any mistake might be a grave
matter for the operator. You are dealing with gigantic
forces. But, you perceive, that the lead is already be-
ginning to turn.”
Silvery dew-like drops had indeed begun to form upon
the dull-colored mass, and to drop with a tinkle and
splash into the glass troughs. Slowly the lead melted
away, like an icicle in the sun, the electrodes ever closing
upon it as it contracted, until they came together in the
centre, and a row of pools of quicksilver had taken the
place of the solid metal. Two smaller electrodes were
plunged into the mercury, which gradually curdled and
solidified, until it had resumed the solid form, with a
yellowish brassy shimmer.
“What lies in the moulds now is platinum,” re-
marked Raffles Haw. “We must take it from the
troughs and refix it in the large electrodes—so. Now
we turn on the current again. You see that it gradually
takes a darker and richer tint. Now I think it is per-
fect.” He drew up the lever, removed the electrodes, and
there lay a dozen bricks of ruddy, sparkling gold.
“You see, according to our calculation, our morning's
work has been worth twenty-four thousand pounds, and
it has not taken us more than twenty minutes,” remarked
the alchemist as he picked up the newly-made ingots,
one after the other, and threw them down among the
others.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 103
“We will devote one of them to experiment,” said he,
leaving the last standing upon the glass insulator. “To
the world it would seem an expensive demonstration
which cost two thousand pounds, but our standard, you
see, is a different one. Now you will see merun through
the whole gamut of metallic nature.”
First of all men after the discoverer, Robert saw the
gold mass, when the electrodes were again applied to
it, change swiftly and successively to barium, to tin, to
silver, to copper, to iron. He saw the long white elec-
tric sparks change to crimson with the strontium, to
purple with the potassium, to yellow with the manga-
nese. Then, finally, after a hundred transformations,
it disintegrated before his eyes, and lay as a little mound
of fluffy gray dust upon the glass table.
“And this is protyle,” said Haw, passing his fingers
through it. “The chemist of the future may resolve it
into further constituents, but to me it is the Ultima
Thule.
“And now, Robert,” he continued, after a pause, “I
have shown you enough to enable you to understand
something of my system. This is the great secret. It
is the secret which endows the man who knows it with
such an universal power as no man has ever enjoyed
since the world was made. This secret it is the dearest
wish of my heart to use for good, and I swear to you,
Robert McIntyre, that if I thought it would tend to
anything but good, I would have done with it forever.
No, I would neither use it myself nor would any other
man learn it from my lips. I swear it by all that is holy
and solemn.” His eyes flashed as he spoke, and his
voice quivered with emotion. Standing, pale and lanky,
amid his electrodes and his retorts, there was still some-
thing majestic about this man, who, amid all his stu-


104 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
pendous good-fortune, could still keep his moral sense
undazzled by the glitter of his gold. Robert's weak
nature had never before realized the strength which lay
in those thin, firm lips and earnest eyes.
“Surely in your hands, Mr. Haw, nothing but good
shall come of it,” he said.
“I hope not, I pray not—most earnestly do I pray
not. I have done for you, Robert, what I might not
have done for my own brother had I one, and I have done
it because I believe and hope that you are a man who
would not use this power, should you inherit it, for self-
ish ends. But even now I have not told you all. There
is one link which I have withheld from you, and which
shall be withheld from you while I live. But look at
this chest, Robert;” he led him to a great iron-clamped
chest which stood in the corner, and throwing it open,
he took from it a small case of carved ivory.
“Inside this,” he said, “I have left a paper which
makes clear anything which is still hidden from you.
Should anything happen to me, you will always be able
to inherit my powers and to continue my plans, by fol-
lowing the directions which are there expressed. And
now,” he continued, throwing his casket back again into
the box, “I shall frequently require your help, but I do
not think that it will be necessary this morning. I have
already taken up too much of your time. If you are go-
ing back to Elmdene, I wish that you would tell Laura
that I shall be with her in the afternoon.”


CHAPTER XII.
A FAMILY JAR.
And so the great secret was out, and Robert walked
home with his head in a whirl, and the blood tingling in
his veins. He had shivered as he came up at the damp
cold of the wind and the sight of the mist-mottled land-
scape. That was all gone now. His own thoughtstinged
everything with sunshine, and he felt inclined to sing
and dance as he walked down the muddy, deeply-rutted
country-lane. Wonderful had been the fate allotted to
Raffles Haw, but surely hardly less important that which
had come upon himself. He was the sharer of the al-
chemist's secret, and the heir to an inheritance which
combined a wealth greater than that of monarchs, to a
freedom such as monarchs cannot enjoy. This was a
destiny indeed! A thousand gold-tinted visions of his
future life rose up before him, and in fancy he already
sat high above the human race, with prostrate thousands
imploring his aid, or thanking him for his benevolence.
How sordid seemed the untidy garden with its
scraggy bushes and gaunt elm-trees' How mean the
plain buck front with the green wooden porch! It had
always offended his artistic sense, but now it was ob-
trusive in its ugliness. The plain room, too, with the
American leather chairs, the dull-colored carpet, and the
patch-work rug, he felt a loathing for it all. The only
pretty thing in it, upon which his eyes could rest with
satisfaction, was his sister as she leaned back in her chair.


106 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
by the fire, with her white, clear, beautiful face outlined
against the dark background.
“Do you know, Robert,” she said, glancing up at him
from under her long black lashes, “papa grows unen-
durable. I have had to speak very plainly to him, and
to make him understand that I am marrying for my own
benefit and not for his.”
“Where is he, then?”
“I don't know. At the Three Pigeons, no doubt.
He spends most of his time there now. He flew off in
a passion, and talked such nonsense about marriage set-
tlements and forbidding the banns, and so on. His no-
tion of a marriage settlement appears to be a settlement
upon the bride's father. He should wait quietly, and
see what can be done for him.”
“I think, Laura, that we must make a good deal of
allowance for him,” said Robert, earnestly. “I have no-
ticed a great change in him lately. I don't think he is
himself at all. I must get some medical advice. But
I have been up at the hall this morning.”
“Have you? Have you seen Raffles? Did he send
anything for me?”
“He said that he would come down when he had fin-
ished his work.”
“But what is the matter, Robert 2 ” cried Laura, with
the swift perception of womanhood. “You are flushed,
and your eyes are shining, and really you look quite
handsome. Raffles has been telling you something?
What was it? Oh, I know, he has been telling you how
he made his money. Hasn't he, now 7"
“Well, yes. He took me partly into his confidence.
I congratulate you, Laura, with all my heart, for you
will be a very wealthy woman.”
“How strange it seems, that he should have come


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 107
to us in our poverty. It is all owing to you, you dear
old Robert, for if he had not taken a fancy to you, he
would never have come down to Elmdene and taken a
fancy to someone else.” -
“Not at all,” Robert answered, sitting down by his
sister, and patting her hand affectionately. “It was a
clear case of love at first sight. He was in love with
you before he ever knew your name. He asked me
about you the very first time I saw him.”
“But tell me about his money, Bob,” said his sister.
“He has not told me yet, and I am so curious. How
did he make it? It was not from his father; he told
me that himself. His father was just a country doctor.
How did he do it?”
“I am bound over to secrecy. He will tell you himself.”
“Oh, but only tell me if I guess right. He had it left
him by an uncle—eh? Well, by a friend ? or he took
out some wonderful patent? or he discovered a mine?
or oil 7 Do tell me, Robert l’”
“I mustn't really,” cried her brother, laughing. “And
I must not talk to you any more. You are much too
sharp. I feel a responsibility about it. And, besides, I
must really do some work.”
“It is very unkind of you,” said Laura, pouting.
“But I must put my things on, for I go into Birming-
ham by the one-twenty.”
“To Birmingham l’
“Yes, I have a hundred things to order. There is
everything to be got. You men forget about these de-
tails. Raffles wishes to have the wedding in little more
than a fortnight. Of course it will be very quiet, but
still one needs something.”
“So early as that l” said Robert, thoughtfully. “Well,
perhaps it is better sol”


110 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
know one or two things about him. What is it they call
him at the Three Pigeons? A smasher, that's the word
—a coiner of false money. Why else should he have
this metal sent him, and that great smoky chimney of
his going all day?"
“Why can you not leave him alone, father?” expos-
tulated Robert. “You seem to think of nothing but his
money. If he had not a penny he would still be a very
kind-hearted, pleasant gentleman.”
Old McIntyre burst into a hoarse laugh. “I like to
hear you preach,” said he. “Without a penny, indeed
Do you think that you would dance attendance upon
him if he were a poor man? Do you think that Laura
would ever have looked twice at him? You know as well
as I do that she is marrying him only for his money.”
Robert gave a cry of dismay. There was the alche-
mist standing in the doorway, pale and silent, looking
from one to the other of them with his searching eyes.
“I must apologize,” he said, coldly; “I did not mean
to listen to your words. I could not help it. But I have
heard them. As to you, Mr. McIntyre, I believe that
you speak from your own bad heart. I will not let my-
self be moved by your words. In Robert I have a true
friend. Laura also loves me for my own sake. You can-
not shake my faith in them. But with you, Mr. McIn-
tyre, I have nothing in common, and it is as well perhaps
that we should both recognize the fact.” He bowed and
was gone ere either of the McIntyres could say a word.
“You see l’” said Robert, at last; “you have done now
what you cannot undol"
“I will be even with him 1" cried the old man, furi-
ously, shaking his fist through the window at the dark
slow-pacing figure. “You just wait, Robert, and see if
your old dad is a man to be played with.”


CHAPTER XIII.
A MID NIGHT W ENTURE.
Not a word was said to Laura when she returned as
to the scene which had occurred in her absence. She
was in the gayest of spirits and prattled merrily about
her purchases and her arrangements, wondering from
time to time when Raffles Haw would come. As might
fell, however, without any word from him, she became
uneasy.
“What can be the matter, that he does not come * *
she said. “It is the first day since our engagement that
I have not seen him.”
Robert looked out through the window. “It is a
gusty night, and raining hard,” he remarked. “I do
not at all expect him.”
“Poor Hector used to come, rain, snow, or fine. But
then of course he was a sailor. It was nothing to him.
I hope that Raffles is not ill.”
“He was quite well when I saw him this morning,”
answered her brother, and they relapsed into silence,
while the rain pattered against the windows, and the
wind screamed amid the branches of the elms outside.
Old McIntyre had sat in the corner most of the day,
biting his nails and glowering into the fire, with a brood-
ing, malignant expression upon his wrinkled features.
Contrary to his usual habits, he did not go to the village
inn, but shuffled off early to bed without a word to his
children. Laura and Robert remained chatting for


112 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
some time by the fire, she talking of the thousand and
one wonderful things which were to be done when she
was mistress of the new hall. There was less philan-
throphy in her talk when her future husband was ab-
sent, and Robert could not but remark that her car-
riages, her dresses, her receptions, and her travels in
distant countries were the topics into which she threw
all the enthusiasm which he had formerly heard her
bestow upon refuge homes and labor organizations.
“I think that grays are the nicest horses,” she said.
“Bays are nice, too, but grays are more showy. We
could manage with a brougham and a landau, and per-
haps a high dog-cart for Raffles. He has the coach-
house full at present, but he never uses them, and I am
sure that those fifty horses would all die for want of ex-
ercise, or get livers like Strasburg geese, if they waited
for him to ride or drive them.”
“I suppose that you will still live here,” said her
brother.
“We must have a house in London as well, and run
up for the season. I don't of course like to make sug-
gestions now, but it will be different afterward. I am
sure that Raffles will do it if I ask him. It is all very
well for him to say that he does not want any thanks or
honors, but I should like to know what is the use of be-
ing a public benefactor if you are to have no return for
it. I am sure that if he does only half what he talks
of doing, they will make him a peer—Lord Tamfield,
perhaps—and then of course I shall be Lady Tamfield,
and what would you think of that, Bob?” She dropped
him a stately courtesy, and tossed her head in the air, as
one who was born to wear a coronet.
“Father must be pensioned off,” she remarked, pres-
ently. “He shall have so much a year on condition that


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HA. W. 113
he keeps away. As to you, Bob, I don't know what
we shall do with you. We shall make you President of
the Royal Academy, if money can do it.”
It was late before they ceased building their air-castles
and retired to their rooms. But Robert's brain was ex-
cited and he could not sleep. The events of the day had
been enough to shake a stronger man. There had been
the revelation of the morning, the strange sights which
he had witnessed in the laboratory, and the immense
secret which had been confided to his keeping. Then
there had been the conversation with his father in the
afternoon, their disagreement, and the sudden intrusion
of Raffles Haw. Finally, the talk with his sister had
excited his imagination and driven sleep from his eye-
lids. In vain he turned and twisted in his bed, or paced
the floor of his chamber. He was not only awake, but
abnormally awake, with every nerve highly strung and
every sense at the keenest. What was he to do to gain
a little sleep? It flashed across him that there was
brandy in the decanter downstairs, and that a glass
might act as a sedative.
He had opened the door of his room, when suddenly
his ear caught the sound of slow and stealthy footsteps
upon the stairs. His own lamp was unlit, but a dim glim-
mer came from a moving taper, and a long black shadow
travelled down the wall. He stood motionless, listening
intently. The steps were in the hall now, and he heard
a gentle creaking as the key was cautiously turned in the
door. The next instant there came a gust of cold air,
the taper was extinguished, and a sharp snap announced
that the door had been closed from without.
Robert stood astonished. Who could this night-wan-
derer be 2 It must be his father. But what errand
could take him out at three in the morning. And such
8


THE DoINGs of RAFFLEs HAW. 115
Robert stumbled his way up the gravelled drive amid
the dripping fir-trees. What could his father's intention
be when he reached the hall? Was it merely that he
wished to spy and prowl, or did he intend to call up the
master and enter into some discussion as to his wrongs?
Or was it possible that some blacker and more sinister
design lay beneath his strange doings? Robert thought
suddenly of the razor strop, and gasped with horror.
What had the old man been doing with that ? He
quickened his pace to a run, and hurried on until he
found himself at the door of the hall.
Thank God, all was quiet there. He stood by the
big silent door and listened intently. There was noth-
ing to be heard save the wind and the rain. Where,
then, could his father be 2 If he wished to enter the
hall he would not attempt to do so by one of the win-
dows, for had he not been present when Raffles Haw
had shown them the precautions which he had taken?
But then a sudden thought struck Robert. There was
one window which was left unguarded. Haw had been
imprudent enough to tell them so. It was the middle
window of the laboratory. If he remembered it so
clearly, of course his father would remember it too.
There was the point of danger.
The moment that he had come round the corner of
the building he found that his surmise had been cor-
rect. An electric lamp burned in the laboratory, and
the silver squares of the three large windows stood out
clear and bright in the darkness. The centre one had
been thrown open, and even as he gazed Robert saw a
dark, monkey-like figure spring up onto the sill, and
vanish into the room beyond. For a moment only it
outlined itself against the brilliant light, but in that
moment Robert had time to see that it was indeed his


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 117
like a common burglar. You knew that this window
was unguarded. I remember telling you as much. But
I did not tell you what other means I had adopted by
which I might be warned if knaves made an entrance.
But that you should have come ! You ! ”
The old gunmaker made no attempt to justify him-
self, but he muttered some few hoarse words and con-
tinued to cling to the treasure.
“I love your daughter,” said Raffles Haw, “and for
her sake I will not expose you. Your hideous and in-
famous secret shall be safe with me. No ear shall hear
what has happened this night. I will not, as I might,
arouse my servants and send for the police. But you
must leave my house without further words. I have
nothing more to say to you. Go as you have come.”
He took a step forward and held out his hand as if to
detach the old man's grasp from the golden bars. The
other thrust his hand into the breast of his coat and,
with a shrill scream of rage, flung himself upon the al-
chemist. So sudden and so fierce was the movement
that Haw had no time for defence. A bony hand
gripped him by the throat, and the blade of a razor
flashed in the air. Fortunately, as it fell the weapon
struck against one of the many wires which spanned the
room, and flying out of the old man's grasp, tinkled upon
the stone floor. But though disarmed, he was still
dangerous. With a horrible, silent energy he pushed
Haw back and back until, coming to a bench, they both
fell over it, McIntyre remaining uppermost. His second
hand was on the alchemist's throat, and it might have
fared ill with him had Robert not climbed through the
window and dragged his father off from him. With the
aid of Haw he pinned the old man down and passed a
long cravat around his arms. It was terrible to look at


118 THE DOINGS OF EAFFLES HAW.
him, for his face was convulsed, his eyes bulging from
his head, and his lips white with foam.
Haw leaned against the glass table panting, with his
hand to his side.
“You here, Robert 1" he gasped. “Is it not hor-
rible? How did you come 2"
“I followed him. I heard him go out.”
“He would have robbed me, and he would have mur.
dered me. But he is mad—stark, staring mad.”
There could be no doubt of it. Old McIntyre was
sitting up now and burst suddenly into a hoarse peal of
laughter, rocking himself backward and forward, and
looking up at them with little twinkling cunning eyes.
It was clear to both of them that his mind, weakened
by long brooding over the one idea, had now at last
become that of a monomaniac. His horrid, causeless
mirth was more terrible even than his fury.
“What shall we do with him 2 * asked Haw. “We
cannot take him back to Elmdene. It would be a terri-
ble shock to Laura.”
“We could have doctors to certify in the morning.
Could we not keep him here until then? If we take him
back someone will meet us, and there will be a scandal.”
“I know. We will take him to one of the padded
rooms, where he can neither hurt himself nor anyone
else. I am somewhat shaken myself. But I am better
now. Do you take one arm and I will take the other.”
Half leading and half dragging him, they managed be-
tween them to convey the old gunmaker away from the
scene of his disaster, and to lodge him for the night in a
place of safety. At five in the morning Robert had
started in the gig to make the medical arrangements,
while Raffles Haw paced his palatial house with a troub.
led face and a sad heart.


CHAPTER XIV.
THE SPREAD OF THE BLIGHT.
It may be that Laura did not look upon the removal
of her father as an unmixed misfortune. Nothing was
said to her as to the manner of the old man's seizure,
but Robert informed her at breakfast that he had
thought it best, acting under medical advice, to place
him for a time under some restraint. She had herself
frequently remarked upon the growing eccentricity of
his manner, so that the announcement could have been
no great surprise to her. It is certain that it did not
diminish her appetite for the coffee and the scrambled
eggs, nor prevent her from chatting a good deal about
her approaching wedding.
But it was very different with Raffles Haw. The in,
cident had shocked him to his inmost soul. He had
often feared lest his money do indirect evil, but here
was crime and madness arising before his very eyes
from its influence. In vain he tried to choke down his
feelings and to persuade himself that this attack of old
McIntyre's was something which came of itself—some-
thing which had no connection with himself or his
wealth. He remembered the man as he had first met
him, garrulous, foolish, but with no obvious vices. He
recalled the change which, week by week, had come over
him, his greedy eye, his furtive manner, his hints and
innuendoes, ending only the day before in a positive de-
mand for money. It was too certain that there was a


Z THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 123
live, half starved and overcrowded, in dreary slums. That
was the result of artificial conditions, and it might well
be healed by artificial means. Why should not his plans
be successful, after all, and the world the better for his
discovery 2 Then, again, it was not the truth that he
cast a blight on those with whom he was brought in con-
tact. There was Laura. Who knew more of him than
she did? and yet how good and sweet and true she was.
She at least had lost nothing through knowing him. He
would go down and see her. It would be soothing to
hear her voice and to turn to her for words of sympathy
in this hour of darkness.
The storm had died away, but a soft wind was blowing
and the smack of the coming spring was in the air. He
drew in the aromatic scent of the fir-trees as he passed
down the curving drive. Before him lay the long slop-
ing country-side, all dotted over with the farm steadings
and little red cottages, with the morning sun striking
slantwise upon their gray roofs and glimmering windows.
His heart yearned over all these people, with their mani-
fold troubles, their little sordid miseries, their strivings
and hopings and petty soul-killing cares. How could
he get at them ? How could he manage to lift the burden
from them and yet not hinder them in their life-aim?
For more and more could he see that all refinement is
through sorrow, and that the life which does not refine
is the life without an aim.
Laura was alone in the sitting-room at Elmdene, for
Robert had gone out to make some final arrangements
about his father. She sprang up as her lover entered,
and ran forward, with a pretty girlish gesture, to greet
him.
“Oh, Raffles,” she cried, “I knew that you would
come! Is it not dreadful about papa?”


124 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
“You must not fret, dearest,” he answered, gently.
“It may not prove to be so very grave after all.”
“But it all happened before I was stirring. I knew
nothing about it until breakfast-time. They must have
gone up to the hall very early 2”
“Yes, they did come up rather early.”
“What is the matter with you, Raffles?” cried Laura,
looking up into his face; “you look so sad and weary !”
“I have been a little in the blues. The fact is, Laura,
that I have had a long talk with Mr. Spurling this morn-
ing.”
The girl started and turned white to the lips. A long
talk with Mr. Spurling ! Did that mean that he had
learned her secret?
“Well !” she gasped.
“He tells me that my charity has done more harm
than good, and, in fact, that I have had an evil influence
upon everyone whom I have come near. He said it in
the most delicate way, but that was really what it
amounted to.”
“Oh, is that all?” said Laura, with a long sigh of
relief. “You must not think of minding what Mr.
Spurling says. Why, it is absurd on the face of it.
Everybody knows that there are dozens of men all over
the country who would have been ruined and turned
out of their houses if you had not stood their friend.
How could they be the worse for having known you? I
wonder that Mr. Spurling can talk such nonsense.”
“How is Robert's picture getting on ?”
“Oh, he has a lazy fit on him. He has not touched
it for ever so long. But why do you ask that? You
have that furrow on your brow again. Put it away,
sir!” She smoothed it away with her white little hand.
“Well, at any rate I don't think that quite everybody


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 125
Is the worse,” said he, looking down at her. “There is
one at least who is beyond taint, one who is good and
pure and true, and who would love me as well if I were
a poor clerk struggling for a livelihood. You would,
would you not, Laura”
“You foolish boy, of course I should.”
“And yet, how strange it is that it should be so—that
you, who are the only woman whom I have ever loved,
should be the only one in whom I also have raised an
affection which is free from greed or interest. I wonder
whether you may not have been sent by Providence sim-
ply to restore my confidence in the world. How barren
a place would it not be if it were not for woman's love.
When all seemed black around me this morning, I tell
you, Laura, that I seemed to turn to you and to your
love as the one thing on earth upon which I could rely.
All else seemed shifting, unstable, influenced by this or
that base consideration. In you, and you only, could I
trust.”
“And I in you, dear Raffles! I never knew what love
was until I met you.”
She took a step toward him, her hands advanced, love
shining in her features, when in an instant Raffles saw
the color struck from her face and a staring horror
spring into her eyes. Her blanched and rigid face was
turned toward the open door, while he, standing partly
béhind it, could not see what it was that had so moved
her.
“Hector!” she gasped with dry lips.
A quick step in the hall and a slim, weather-tanned
young man sprang forward into the room and caught
her up in his arms as if she had been a feather. “You
darling !” he said. “I knew that I would surprise you.
I came right up from Plymouth by the night train.


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 127
“Four months 1" gasped Haw. “Why, it is just
four months since I came here. And one last question,
sir. Does Robert McIntyre know of your engage.
ment 2 ”
“Does Bob know? Of course he knows. Why, it
was to his care I left Laura when I started. But what
is the meaning of all this? What is the matter with you,
Laura 2 Why are you so white and silent? And—
hullo, hold up, sir! The man is fainting !”
“It is all right !” gasped Haw, steadying himself
against the edge of the door. He was as white as pa-
per, and his hand was pressed close to his side, as
though some sudden pain had shot through him. For
a moment he tottered there like a stricken man, and
then, with a hoarse cry, he turned and fled out through
the open door.
“Poor devill” said Hector, gazing in amazement
after him. “He seems hard hit anyhow. But what is
the meaning of all this, Laura” His face had darkened
and his mouth had set.
She had not said a word, but had stood, with a face
hike a mask, looking blankly in front of her. Now she
tore herself away from him, and casting herself down,
with her face buried in the cushion of the sofa, she burst
into a passion of sobbing.
“It means that you have ruined me,” she cried.
“That you have ruined—ruined—ruined me ! Could
you not leave us alonel Why must you come at the last
moment 1 A few more days and we were safe. And
you never had my letter?”
“And what was in your letter, then?” he asked,
coldly, standing, with his arms folded, looking down at
her.
“It was to tell you that I released you. I love Rai.


130 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
so that it was dreadful to look at the poor dear gentle.
man. Then he walked about the passages a long time,
and he wouldn't so much as look at his luncheon, but
he went into the museum and gathered all his jewels and
things and carried them into the laboratory. We don't
know what he's done since then, sir, but his furnace
has been a-roarin', and his big chimney spoutin' smoke
like a Birmingham factory. When night came we could
see his figure against the light a-workin’ and a-heavin'
like a man possessed. No dinner would he have, but
work and work and work. Now it's all quiet, and the
furnace cold, and no smoke from above, but we can't
get no answer from him, sir, so we were scared, and
Miller has gone for the police, and I came away for
you.”
They reached the hall as the butler finished his expla-
nation, and there outside the laboratory door were the
little knot of footmen and hostlers, while the village
policeman, who had just arrived, was holding his bull's-
eye to the keyhole and endeavoring to peep through.
“The key is half turned,” he said. “I can't see
nothing except just the light.”
“Here's Mr. McIntyre,” cried half a dozen voices, as
Robert came forward.
“We'll have to beat the door in, sir,” said the police-
man; “we can't get any sort of answer, and there's some-
thing wrong.”
Twice and thrice they threw their united weights
against it, until at last, with a sharp snap, the lock
broke and they crowded into the narrow passage.
The inner door was ajar and the laboratory lay before
them.
In the centre was an enormous heap of fluffy gray ash,
reaching up half way to the ceiling. Beside it was


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. 131
another heap, much smaller, of some brilliant scintillat-
ing dust which shimmered brightly in the rays of the
electric light. All round was a bewildering chaos of
broken jars, shattered bottles, cracked machinery, and
tangled wires, all bent and draggled. And there, in the
midst of this universal ruin, leaning back in his chair,
with his hands clasped upon his lap, and the easy pose
of one who rests after hard work safely carried through,
sat Raffles Haw, the master of the house, and the richest
of mankind, with the pallor of death upon his face. So
easily he sat and so naturally, with such a serene ex-
pression upon his features, that it was not until they
raised him, and touched his cold and rigid limbs, that
they could realize that he had indeed passed away.
Reverently and slowly they bore him to his room, for
he was beloved by all who had served him. Robert
alone lingered with the policeman in the laboratory.
Like a man in a dream he wandered about, marvelling
at the universal destruction. A large broad-headed ham-
mer lay upon the ground, and with this Haw had appar-
ently set himself to destroy all his apparatus, having
first used his electric machines to reduce to protyle all
the stock of gold which he had accumulated. The
treasure-room, which had so dazzled Robert, consisted
now of merely four bare walls, while the gleaming dust
upon the floor proclaimed the fate of that magnificent
collection of gems which had alone amounted to a royal
fortune. Of all the machinery no single piece remained
intact, and even the glass table was shattered into three
pieces. Strenuously earnest must have been the work
which Raffles Haw had done that day.
And suddenly Robert thought of the secret which had
been treasured in the casket within the iron-clamped
box. It was to tell him the one last essential link which


132 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
would make his knowledge of the process complete.
Was it still there? Thrilling all over he opened the
great chest and drew out the ivory box. It was locked,
but the key was in it. He turned it and threw open the
lid. There was a white slip of paper with his own
name written upon it. With trembling fingers he un-
folded it. Was he the heir to the riches of El Dor-
ado, or was he destined to be a poor, struggling artist?
The note was dated that very evening, and ran in this
way:
“My DEAR Robert : My secret shall never be used
again. I cannot tell you how I thank heaven that I did
not entirely confide it to you, for I should have been
handing over to you an inheritance of misery, both to
yourself and others. For myself I have hardly had a
happy moment since I discovered it. This I could have
borne had I been able to feel that I was doing good;
but alas! the only effect of my attempts has been to
turn workers into idlers, contented men into greedy
parasites, and, worst of all, true, pure women into de-
ceivers and hypocrites. If this is the effect of my inter-
ference in a small scale, I cannot hope for anything bet-
ter were I to carry out the plans which we have so often
discussed. The schemes of my life, have all turned to
nothing. For myself you shall never see me again. I
shall go back to the student-life from which I emerged.
There, at least, if I can do little good, I can do no harm.
It is my wish that such valuables as remain in the hall
should be sold and the proceeds divided amongst all the
charities of Birmingham. I shall leave to-night if I am
well enough, but I have been much troubled all day by a
stabbing pain in my side. It is as if wealth were as bad
for health as it is for peace of mind. Good-by, Robert,


THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAV. 133
and may you never have as sad a heart as I have to-
night.
“Yours very truly,
“RAFFLES HAw.”
“Was it suicide, sir?—was it suicide?” broke in the
policeman, as Robert put the note in his pocket.
“No,” he answered; “I think it was a broken heart."
And so the wonders of the new hall were all disman-
tled—the carvings and the gold, the books and the
pictures—and many a struggling man or woman who
had heard nothing of Raffles Haw during his life had
cause to bless him after his death. The house has
been bought by a company who have turned it into a
hydropathic establishment. and of all the folk who fre-
quent it in search of neasºn or of pleasure, there are
few who know the strange story which is connected
with it.
The blight which Haw's wealth cast around it seemed
to last even after his death Old McIntyre still raves
in the county asylum, and treasures up old scraps of
wood and metal under the impression that they are all
ingots of gold. Robert McIntyre is a moody and irrita-
ble man, forever pursuing a quest which will always
evade him. His art is forgotten, and he spends his
whole small income upon chemical and electrical appli-
ances, with which he vainly seeks to rediscover that
one hidden link. His sister keeps house for him—a
silent and brooding woman, still queenly and beautiful,
but of a bitter, dissatisfied mind. Of late, however, she
has devoted herself to charity, and has been of so much
help to Mr. Spurling's new curate that it is thought
he may be tempted to secure her assistance forever,


184 THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW.
So runs the gossip of the village, and in small places
such gossip is seldom wrong. As for Hector Spurling,
he is still in Her Majesty's service, and seems inclined
to abide by his father's wise advice, that he should not
think of marrying until he is a commander. It is possi-
ble that of all who were brought within the spell of Raffles
Haw he was the only one who had occasion to bless it.


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE





THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
I HAD called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one
day in the autumn of last year, and found him in deep
conversation with a very stout, florid-faced elderly gentle-
man, with fiery red hair. With an apology for my intru-
sion, I was about to withdraw, when Holmes pulled me
abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.
“You could not possibly have come at a better time,
my dear Watson,” he said, cordially.
“I was afraid that you were engaged.”
“So I am. Wery much so.”
“Then I can wait in the next room.”
“Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been
my partner and helper in many of my most successful
cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost
use to me in yours also.”
The stout gentleman half rose from his chair, and gave
a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance
from his small, fat-encircled eyes.
“Try the settee,” said Holmes, relapsing into his arm-
ehair, and putting his ºnger-tips together, as was his
custom when in judicial n. is. “I know, my dear Wat-
son, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and
outside the conventions and humdrum routine of every-
day life. You have shown your relish for it by the en-
thusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if


138 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so
many of my own little adventures.”
“Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest
to me,” I observed.
“You will remember that I remarked the other day,
just before we went into the very simple problem pre-
sented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for strange effects
and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself,
which is always far more daring than any effort of the
imagination.”
“A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting.”
“You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come
round to my view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling
fact upon fact on you, until your reason breaks down
under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, Mr.
Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me
this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises
to be one of the most singular which I have listened to
for some time. You have heard me remark that the
strangest and most unique things are very often con-
nected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes,
and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt
whether any positive crime has been committed. As far
as I have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether
the present case is an instance of crime or not, but the
course of events is certainly among the most singular
that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you
would have the great kindness to recommence your narra-
tive. I ask you, not merely because my friend, Dr. Wat-
son, has not heard the opening part, but also because the
peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have
every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I
have heard some slight indication of the course of events
I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other sim-


140 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
that, Mr. Holmes?” he asked. “How did you know, for
example, that I did manual labor. It's as true as gospel,
for I began as a ship's carpenter.”
“Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a
size larger than your left. You have worked with it and
the muscles are more developed.”
“Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry "
“I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I
read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of
your order, you use an arc and compass breastpin.”
“Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?”
“What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very
shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth
patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk.”
“Well, but China?”
“The fish which you have tattooed immediately above
your right wrist could only have been done in China. I
have made a small study of tattoo marks, and have even
contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick
of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite
peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese
coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes
even more simple.”
Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. “Well, I never !”
said he. “I thought at first that you had done some-
thing clever, but I see that there was nothing in it after
all.”
“I begin to think, Watson,” said Holmes, “that I
make a mistake in explaining. ‘Omne ignotum pro
magnifico,' you know, and my poor little reputation, such
as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Can you
not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?”
“Yes, I have got it now,” he answered, with his thick,
red finger planted half-way down the column. “Here it


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 141
is. This is what began it all. You just read it for your.
self, sir.” -
I took the paper from him and read as follows:
“To THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the
bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pa.,
U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which en-
titles a member of the League to a salary of four pounds
a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men
who are sound in body and mind and above the age of
twenty-one years are eligible. Apply in person on Mon-
day, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of
the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street.”
“What on earth does this mean?” I ejaculated, after I
had twice read over the extraordinary announcement.
Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his
habit when in high spirits. “It is a little off the beaten
track, isn't it?” said he. “And now, Mr. Wilson, off you
go at scratch, and tell us all about yourself, your house-
hold, and the effect which this advertisement had upon
your fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of
the paper and the date.”
“It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just
two months ago.”
“Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson.”
“Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sher-
lock Holmes,” said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead,
“I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square,
near the City. It's not a very large affair, and of late
years it has not done more than just give me a living. I
used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only
keep one ; and I would have a job to pay him but that


142 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
he is willing to come for half wages, so as to learn the
business.”
“What is the name of this obliging youth?” asked
Sherlock Holmes.
“His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a
youth either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish
a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well
that he could better himself, and earn twice what I am
able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why
should I put ideas in his head?”
“Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having
an employee who comes under the full market price. It is
not a common experience among employers in this age.
I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as
your advertisement.”
“Oh, he has his faults, too,” said Mr. Wilson. “Never
was such a fellow for photography. Snapping away with
a camera when he ought to be improving his mind, and
then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its
hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault; but,
on the whole, he's a good worker. There's no vice in him.”
“He is still with you, I presume 2"
“Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit
of simple cooking, and keeps the place clean—that's all I
have in the house, for I am a widower, and never had any
family. We live very quietly, sir, the three of us; and
we keep a roof over our heads, and pay our debts, if we
do nothing more.
“The first thing that put us out was that advertisement.
Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day
eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he
says:
“‘I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-
headed man.’


THE RED-HEALDED LEAGUE. 143
“‘Why that ?' I asks.
“‘Why,” says he, “here's another vacancy on the League
of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune
to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are
more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees
are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my
hair would only change color here's a nice little crib all
ready for me to step into.”
“‘Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr.
Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home man, and, as my busi-
ness came to me instead of my having to go to it, I was
often weeks on end without putting my foot over the
door-mat. In that way I didn't know much of what was
going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news.
“‘Have you never heard of the League of the Red-
headed Men?” he asked, with his eyes open.
“‘Never.”
“‘Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself
for one of the vacancies.”
“And what are they worth?' I asked.
“‘Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the
work is slight, and it need not interfere very much with
one's other occupations.”
“Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up
my ears, for the business has not been over good for
some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have
been very handy.
“‘Tell me all about it,” said L.
“‘Well,” said he, showing me the advertisement, ‘you
can see for yourself that the League has a vacancy, and
there is the address where you should apply for par-
ticulars. As far as I can make out, the League was
founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins,
who tras very peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-


144 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed
men ; so, when he died, it was found that he had left his
enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instruc-
tions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths
to men whose hair is of that color. From all I hear it is
splendid pay, and very little to do.’
“‘But,” said I, ‘there would be millions of red-headed
men who would apply.”
“‘Not so many as you might think,’ he answered.
‘You see it is really confined to Londoners, and to grown
men. This American had started from London when he
was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good
turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your apply-
ing if your hair is light red, or dark red, ºr anything but
real, bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to ap-
ply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in ; but perhaps it
would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of
the way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.’
“Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for your-
selves, that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that
it seemed to me that, if there was to be any competition
in the matter, I stood as good a chance as any man that I
had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so
much about it that I thought he might prove useful, so
I just ordered him to put up the shutters for the day,
and to come right away with me. He was very willing
to have a holiday, so we shut the business up, and started
off for the address that was given us in the advertisement.
“I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr.
Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man
who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the
City to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was
choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked
like a coster's orange barrow. I should not have thought


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 145
there were so many in the whole country as were brought
together by that single advertisement. Every shade of
color they were—straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter,
liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many
who had the real vivid flame-colored tint. When I saw
how many were waiting, I would have given it up in de-
spair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How he did
it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and
butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up
to the steps which led to the office. There was a double
stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some
coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we
could, and soon found ourselves in the office.”
, “Your experience has been a most entertaining one,”
remarked Holmes, as his client paused and refreshed his
memory with a huge pinch of snuff “Pray continue
your very interesting statement.”
“There was nothing in the office but a couple of
wooden chairs and a deal table, behind which sat a small
man, with a head that was even redder than mine. He
said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and
then he always managed to find some fault in them which
would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem
to be such a very easy matter after all. However, when
our turn came, the little man was much more favorable to
me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as
we entered, so that he might have a private word with us.
“‘This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,’ said my assistant, “and
he is willing to fill a vacancy in the League.”
“‘And he is admirably suited for it,' the other an-
swered. “He has every requirement. I cannot recall
when I have seen anything so fine.’ He took a step back-
ward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my
hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged


146 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly
on my success.
“‘It would be injustice to hesitate,’ said he. “You
will, however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious
precaution.” With that he seized my hair in both his
hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. ‘There
is water in your eyes,” said he, as he released me. “I per-
ceive that all is as it should be. But we have to be care-
ful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once
by paint. I could tell you tales of cobblers' wax which
would disgust you with human nature.’ He stepped
over to the window and shouted through it at the top
of his voice that the vacancy was filled. A groan of
disappointment came up from below, and the folk all
trooped away in different directions, until there was
not a red head to be seen except my own and that of
the manager.
“‘My name,” said he, “is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am
myself one of the pensioners upon the fund left by our
noble benefactor. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson?
Have you a family?’
“I answered that I had not.
“His face fell immediately.
“‘Dear me!" he said, gravely, “that is very serious in-
deed 1 I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was,
of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-
heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly
unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.”
“My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought
that I was not to have the vacancy after all; but, after
thinking it over for a few minutes, he said that it would
be all right.
“‘In the case of another,’ said he, “the objection
might be fatal, but we must stretch a point in favor of


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 147
.
a man with such a head of hair as yours. When shall
you be able to enter upon your new duties?’
“‘Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business al-
ready,” said I.
“‘Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson l’ said Win-
cent Spaulding. “I shall be able to look after that for
you.'
“‘What would be the hours ?? I asked.
“‘Ten to two.”
“Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an
evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday
evenings, which is just before pay-day; so it would suit
me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Be-
sides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and
that he would see to anything that turned up.
“That would suit me very well,” said L. “And the
pay?’
“‘Is four pounds a week.’
“‘And the work?”
“‘Is purely nominal.’
“‘What do you call purely nominal.”
“‘Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in
the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit
your whole position forever. The will is very clear
upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions
if you budge from the office during that time.”
“‘It’s only four hours a day, and I should not think of
leaving,” said I.
“‘No excuse will avail,” said Mr. Duncan Ross, “neither
sickness, nor business, nor anything else. There you must
stay, or you lose your billet.’
“‘And the work?”
“‘Is to copy out the “Encyclopædia Britannica.”
There is the first volume of it in that press. You must


148 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper, but we pro-
vide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-mor-
row 2°
“‘Certainly,” I answered.
“‘Then, good-by, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me con-
gratulate you once more on the important position which
you have been fortunate enough to gain.” He bowed me
out of the room, and I went home with my assistant
hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at
my own good fortune. *
“Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by even-
ing I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded
myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or
fraud, though what its object might be I could not
imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone
could make such a will, or that they would pay such a
sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the
‘Encyclopædia Britannica.’ Vincent Spaulding did what
he could to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned
myself out of the whole thing. However, in the morning
I determined to have a look at it anyhow, so I bought a
penny bottle of ink, and with a quill pen and seven sheets
of foolscap paper I started off for Pope's Court.
“Well, to my surprise and delight everything was as
right as possible. The table was set out ready for me,
and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly
to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then
he left me; but he would drop in from time to time to
see that all was right with me. At two o'clock he bade
me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that
I had written, and locked the door of the office after
Ine.
“This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on
Saturday the manager came in and planked down four


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 149
golden sovereigns for my week's work. It was the same
next week, and the same the week after. Every morning
I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By
degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only once of
a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at
all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for
an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and
the billet was such a good one, and suited me so well,
that I would not risk the loss of it.
“Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written
about Abbots, and Archery, and Armor, and Architect-
ure, and Attica, and hoped with diligence that I might
get on to the Bs before very long. It cost me something
in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my
writings. And then suddenly the whole business came
to an end.”
“To an end ?”
“Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to
my work as usual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut
and locked, with a little square of cardboard hammered
onto the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, and
you can read for yourself.”
He held up a piece of white card-board, about the size
of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion:
“THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE Is Dissolved.
Oct. 9, 1890.”
Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announce-
ment and the rueful face behind it, until the comical side
of the affair so completely overtopped every consideration
that we both burst out into a roar of laughter.
“I cannot see that there is anything very funny,” cried
our client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head.


150 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
“If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go
elsewhere.”
“No, no,” cried Holmes, shoving him back into the
chair from which he had half risen. “I really wouldn't
miss your case for the world. It is most refreshingly un-
usual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so,
something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps
did you take when you found the card upon the door?”
“I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do.
Then I called at the offices round, but none of them
seemed to know anything about it. Finally, I went to
the landlord, who is an accountant living on the ground
floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had
become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had
never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who
Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was
new to him.” º
“‘Well,” said I, ‘the gentleman at No.4.”
“‘What, the red-headed man?”
“* Yes.”
“‘Oh,” said he, “his name was William Morris. He
was a solicitor, and was using my room as a temporary
convenience until his new premises were ready. He
moved out yesterday.”
“‘Where could I find him?”
“‘Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the ad-
dress. Yes, 17 King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'
“I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that ad-
dress it was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no
one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris,
or Mr. Duncan Ross.”
“And what did you do then?” asked Holmes.
“I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the
advice of my assistant. But he could not help me in any


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 151
way. He could only say that if I waited I should hear
by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr.
Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a
struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough to
give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came
right away to you.”
“And you did very wisely,” said Holmes. “Your case
is an exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy
to look into it. From what you have told me I think that
it is possible that graver issues hang from it than might
at first sight appear.”
“Grave enough 1” said Mr. Jabez Wilson. “Why, I
have lost four pound a week.”
“As far as you are personally concerned,” remarked
Holmes, “I do not see that you have any grievance
against this extraordinary league. On the contrary, you
are, as I understand, richer by some thirty pounds, to say
nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained
on every subject which comes under the letter A. You
have lost nothing by them.”
“No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who
they are, and what their object was in playing this prank
—if it was a prank—upon me. It was a pretty expensive
joke for them, for it cost them two-and-thirty pounds.”
“We shall endeavor to clear up these points for you.
And, first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This as-
sistant of yours who first called your attention to the ad-
vertisement—how long had he been with you?”
“About a month then.”
“How did he come?”
“In answer to an advertisement.”
“Was he the only applicant?”
“No, I had a dozen."
“Why did you pick him?”


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 153
problem, and I beg that you won't speak to me for fifty
minutes.” He curled himself up in his chair, with his
thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there he
sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting
out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the
conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was
nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his
chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his
mind, and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece.
“Sarasate plays at St. James's Hall this afternoon,”
he remarked. “What do you think, Watson? Could
your patients spare you for a few hours?”
“I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never
very absorbing.” -
“Then put on your hat and come. I am going
through the City first, and we can have some lunch on the
way. I observe that there is a good deal of German
music on the programme, which is rather more to my
taste than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I
want to introspect. Come along !”
We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate;
and a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the
scene of the singular story which we had listened to in
the morning. It was a pokey, little, shabby-genteel place,
where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked
out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of
weedy grass, and a few clumps of faded laurel bushes
made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial
atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with
JABEz WILSON in white letters, upon a corner house,
announced the place where our red-headed client carried
on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it
with his head on one side, and looked it all over, with his
eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he


154 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the
corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally he
returned to the pawnbroker's and, having thumped vig-
orously upon the pavement with his stick two or three
times, he went up to the door and knocked. It was in-
stantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young
fellow, who asked him to step in. -
“Thank you,” said Holmes, “I only wished to ask you
how you would go from here to the Strand.”
“Third right, fourth left,” answered the assistant
promptly, closing the door.
“Smart fellow, that,” observed Holmes as we walked
away. “He is, in my judgment, the fourth smartest man
in London, and for daring I am not sure that he has not
a claim to be third. I have known something of him
before.”
“Evidently,” said I, “Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for
a good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I
am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that
you might see him.”
“Not him.”
“What then?”
“The knees of his trousers.”
“And what did you see?”
“What I expected to see.”
“Why did you beat the pavement?”
“My dear Doctor, this is a time for observation, not for
talk. We are spies in an enemy's country. We know
something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore
the parts which lie behind it.” -
The road in which we found ourselves as we turned
round the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square
presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a picture
does to the back. It was one of the main arteries which


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 155
convey the traffic of the City to the north and west. The
roadway was blocked with the immense stream of com-
merce flowing in a double tide inward and outward,
while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm
of pedestrians. It was difficult to realize as we looked at
the line of fine shops and stately business premises that
they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and
stagnant square which we had just quitted.
“Let me see,” said Holmes, standing at the corner, and
glancing along the line, “I should like just to remember
the order of the houses here. It is a hobby of mine to
have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's,
the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg
branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian
Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage - building depot.
That carries us right on to the other block. And now,
Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some
play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to
violin-land, where all is sweetness, and delicacy, and har-
mony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with
their conundrums.”
My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself
not only a very capable performer, but a composer of no
ordinary merit. All the afternoon he sat in the stalls
wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently waving his
long thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently
smiling face and his languid dreamy eyes were as unlike
those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relent-
less, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was
possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual
nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exact-
ness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought,
the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood
which occasionally predominated in him. The swing of


156 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring
energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so truly for-
midable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging
in his arm-chair amid his improvisations and his black-
letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase
would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant
reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until
those who were unacquainted with his methods would
look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was
not that of other mortals. When I saw him that after-
noon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall I felt
that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he
had set himself to hunt down.
“You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor,” he re-
marked, as we emerged.
“Yes, it would be as well.”
“And I have some business to do which will take some
hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious.”
“Why serious?”
“A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have
every reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it.
But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters. I
shall want your help to-night.”
“At what time?”
“Ten will be early enough.”
“I shall be at Baker Street at ten.”
“Very well. And, I say, Doctorſ there may be some
little danger, so kindly put your army revolver in your
pocket.” He waved his hand, turned on his heel, and dis-
appeared in an instant among the crowd.
I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbors,
but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stu-
pidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had
heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen,


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 157
and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly
not only what had happened, but what was about to
happen, while to me the whole business was still con-
fused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house in
Rensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary
story of the red-headed copier of the “Encyclopaedia”
down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous
words with which he had parted from me. What was
this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed?
Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had
the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's
assistant was a formidable man—a man who might play
a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in
despair, and set the matter aside until night should bring
an explanation.
It was a quarter past nine when I started from home
and made my way across the Park, and so through Oxford
Street to Baker Street. Two hansoms were standing at
the door, and, as I entered the passage, I heard the sound
of voices from above. On entering his room, I found
Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of
whom Irecognized as Peter Jones, the official police agent;
while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a
very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat.
“Ha! our party is complete,” said Holmes, buttoning
up his pea-jacket, and taking his heavy hunting crop from
the rack. “Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of
Scotland Yard 2 Let me introduce you to Mr. Merry-
weather, who is to be our companion in to-night's adven-
ture.”
“We’re hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see,”
said Jones, in his consequential way. “Our friend here
is a wonderful man for starting a chase. All he wants
is an old dog to help him do the running down.”


158 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
“I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of
our chase,” observed Mr. Merryweather, gloomily.
“You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes,
sir,” said the police agent, loftily. “He has his own little
methods, which are, if he won't mind my saying so, just
a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has the makings
of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once
or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the
Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the
official force.”
“Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right !” said the
stranger, with deference. “Still, I confess that I miss
my rubber. It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-
twenty years that I have not had my rubber.”
“I think you will find,” said Sherlock Holmes, “that
you will play for a higher stake to-night than you have
ever done yet, and that the play will be more exciting.
For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some thirty
thousand pounds; and for you, Jones, it will be the man
upon whom you wish to lay your hands."
“John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger.
He's a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the
head of his profession, and I would rather have my brace-
lets on him than on any criminal in London. He's a re-
markable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was
a Royal Duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Ox-
ford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though
we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where
to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland
one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in
Cornwall the next. I've been on his track for years, and
have never set eyes on him yet.”
“I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing
you to-night. I've had one or two little turns also with


160 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
me, it sounds quite hollow !” he remarked, looking up in
surprise.
“I must really ask you to be a little more quiet,” said
Holmes, severely. “You have already imperilled the
whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you
would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those
boxes, and not to interfere?”
The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a
crate, with a very injured expression upon his face, while
Holmes fell upon his knees upon the floor, and, with the
lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine minute-
ly the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed
to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again, and put his
glass in his pocket.
“We have at least an hour before us,” he remarked,
“for they can hardly take any steps until the good pawn-
broker is safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute,
for the sooner they do their work the longer time they
will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor—
as no doubt you have divined—in the cellar of the City
branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr.
Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will
explain to you that there are reasons why the more dar-
ing criminals of London should take a considerable in-
terest in this cellar at present.”
“It is our French gold,” whispered the director. “We
have had several warnings that an attempt might be made
upon it.”
“Your French gold?”
“Yes. We had occasion some months ago to streng-
then our resources, and borrowed, for that purpose, thirty
thousand napoleons from the Bank of France. It has be-
come known that we have never had occasion to unpack
the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 161
crate upon which I sit contains two thousand napoleons
packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion
is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single
branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon
the subject.”
“Which were very well justified,” observed Holmes.
“And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I
expect that within an hour matters will come to a head.
In the meantime, Mr. Merryweather, we must put the
screen over that dark lantern.”
“And sit in the dark?”
“I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my
pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you
might have your rubber after all. But I see that the
enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk
the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose
our positions. These are daring men, and, though we
shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some
harm, unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this
crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then,
when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they
fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them
down.”
I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wood-
en case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide
across the front of his lantern, and left us in pitch dark-
ness—such an absolute darkness as I have never before
experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure
us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a
moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to
a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing
and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold, dank
air of the vault.
“They have but one retreat,” whispered Holmes.


162 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
“That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square.
I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?”
“I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the
front door.”
“Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we
must be silent and wait.”
What a time it seemed ! From comparing notes after-
ward, it was but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared
to me that the night must have almost gone, and the dawn
be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff,
for I feared to change my position, yet my nerves were
worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing
was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breath-
ing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper,
heavier inbreath of the bulky Jones from the thin sighing
note of the bank director. From my position I could
look over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly
my eyes caught the glint of a light.
At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pave-
ment. Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow
line, and then, without any warning or sound, a gash
seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost wo-
manly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little
area of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its
writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was
withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark
again save the single lurid spark, which marked a chink
between the stones.
Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With
a rending, tearing sound, one of the broad white stones
turned over upon its side, and left a square, gaping hole,
through which streamed the light of a lantern. Over the
edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked
keenly about it, and then, with a hand on either side of


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 163
the aperture, drew itself shoulder high and waist high,
until one knee rested upon the edge. In another instant
he stood at the side of the hole, and was hauling after
him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale
face and a shock of very red hair.
“It's all clear,” he whispered. “Have you the chisel
and the bags. Great Scott Jump, Archie, jump, and
I'll swing for it!” -
Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intrud-
er by the collar. The other dived down the hole, and I
heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones clutched at
his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolv-
er, but Holmes' hunting crop came down on the man's
wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor.
“It's no use, John Clay,” said Holmes, blandly, “you
have no chance at all.”
“$$o I see,” the other answered, with the utmost cool-
ness. “I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you
have got his coat-tails.”
*''here are three men waiting for him at the door,”
said Holmes.
“Oh, indeed. You seem to have done the thing very
completely. I must compliment you.”
“And I you,” Holmes answered. “Your red-headed
idea was very new and effective.”
“You’ll see your pal again presently,” said Jones.
“He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just
hold out while I fix the derbies.”
“I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy
hands,” remarked our prisoner, as the handcuffs clattered
upon his wrists. “You may not be aware that I have
royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness also, when
you address me, always to say “sir’ and “please.”
“All right,” said Jones, with a stare and a snigger.


164 THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE.
“Well, would you please, sir, march upstairs, where
we can get a cab to carry your highness to the police-
station.”
“That is better,” said John Clay, serenely. He made
a sweeping bow to the three of us, and walked quietly off
in the custody of the detective.
“Really, Mr. Holmes,” said Mr. Merryweather, as we
followed them from the cellar, “I do not know how the
bank can thank you or repay you. There is no doubt
that you have detected and defeated in the most complete
manner one of the most determined attempts at bank rob-
bery that have ever come within my experience.”
“I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle
with Mr. John Clay,” said Holmes. “I have been at some
small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the
bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by
having had an experience which is in many ways unique,
and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-
headed League.”
“You see, Watson,” he explained, in the early hours of
the morning, as we sat over a glass of whiskey and soda in
Baker Street, “it was perfectly obvious from the first that
the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of
the advertisement of the League, and the copying of the
‘Encyclopædia,” must be to get this not over-bright pawn-
broker out of the way for a number of hours every day.
It was a curious way of managing it, but really it would
be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no
doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the color
of his accomplice's hair. The four pounds a week was a
lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who
were playing for thousands? They put in the advertise-
ment, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE. 165
incftes the man to apply for it, and together they manage
to secure his absence every morning in the week. From
the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half
wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong
motive for securing the situation.”
“But how could you guess what the motive was 2"
“Had there been women in the house, I should have
suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was
out of the question. The man's business was a small one,
and there was nothing in his house which could account
for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure
as they were at. It must then be something out of the
house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant's
fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into
the cellar. The cellar ! There was the end of this tan-
gled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious
assistant, and found that I had to deal with one of the
coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was
doing something in the cellar—something which took
many hours a day for months on end. What could it be,
once more? I could think of nothing save that he was
running a tunnel to some other building.
“So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of
action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement
with my stick. I was ascertaining whether the cellar
stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front.
Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant an-
swered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had
never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked
at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You
must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and
stained they were. They spoke of those hours of burrow-
ing. The only remaining point was what they were bur-
rowing for. I walked round the corner, saw that the City





170 THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MYSTERY.
and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even
gaunter and taller by his long gray travelling cloak and
close-fitting cloth cap.
“It is really very good of you to come, Watson,” said
he. “It makes a considerable difference to me, having
someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local
aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you
will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets.”
We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense
litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him.
Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of
note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Read-
ing. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic
ball, and tossed them up on to the rack.
“Have you heard anything of the case?” he asked.
“Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some
days.”
“The London press has not had very full accounts. I
have just been looking through all the recent papers in
order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I
gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so ex-
tremely difficult.”
“That sounds a little paradoxical.”
“But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost in-
variably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace
a crime is, the more difficult is it to bring it home. In
this case, however, they have established a very serious
case against the son of the murdered man.”
“It is a murder, then 2"
“Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing
for granted until I have the opportunity of looking per-
sonally into it. I will explain the state of things to you,
as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few
words.


THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY. 171
“Boscombe Walley is a country district not very far
from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed pro-
prietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his
money in Australia, and returned some years ago to the
old country. One of the farms which he held, that of
Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also
an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the
Colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came
to settle down they should do so as near each other as
possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so Mc-
Carthy became his tenant, but still remained, it seems,
upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently
together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and
Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither
of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided
the neighboring English families, and to have led retired
lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport, and
were frequently seen at the race meetings of the neighbor-
hood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl.
Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at
the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather
about the families. Now for the facts.
“On June 3d, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left
his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon, and
walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake
formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs
down the Boscombe Walley. He had been out with his
serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the
man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of
importance to keep at three. From that appointment he
never came back alive.
“From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is
a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed
over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name


172 THE POSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY.
is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a.
gamekeeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these
witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone.
The gamekeeper adds that within a few minutes of his
seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James
McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm.
To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight
at the time, and the son was following him. He thought
no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of
the tragedy that had occurred.
“The two McCarthys were seen after the time when
William Crowder, the gamekeeper, lost sight Qf them.
The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a
fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of
fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the
lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Walley estate, was in one
of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she
was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by
the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they ap-
peared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr.
McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son,
and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his
father. She was so frightened by their violence that she
ran away, and told her mother when she reached home
that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Bos-
combe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going
to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr.
McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he
had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the
help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without
either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve
were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On follow.
ing him they found the dead body stretched out upon the
grass beside the Pool. The head had been beaten in by


THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY. 173
repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The
injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted
by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying
on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these
circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and
a verdict of ‘Wilful Murder' having been returned at the
inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before
the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the
next assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they
came out before the coroner and at the police court.”
“I could hardly imagine a more damning case,” I re-
marked. “If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a
criminal, it does so here.”
“Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing,” an-
swered Holmes, thoughtfully. “It may seem to point
very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own
point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an
equally uncompromising manner to something entirely
different. It must be confessed, however, that the case
looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is
very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are
several people in the neighborhood, however, and among
them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighboring land-
owner, who believe in his innocence, and who have re-
tained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection
with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his in-
terest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the
case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentle-
men are flying westward at fifty miles an hour, instead of
quietly digesting their breakfasts at home.”
“I am afraid,” said I, “that the facts are so obvious
that you will find little credit to be gained out of this
case.”
“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious


174 THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY.
fact,” he answered, laughing. “Besides, we may chance
to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have
been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me
too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I
shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which
he is quite incapable of employing, or even of under-
standing. To take the first example to hand, I very
clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon
the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Les-
trade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as
that.”
“How on earth !”
“My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the mili-
tary neatness which characterizes you. You shave every
morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight,
but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get
further back on the left side, until it becomes positively
slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely
very clear that that side is less well illuminated than the
other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking
at himself in an equal light, and being satisfied with such
a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observa-
tion and inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is just
possible that it may be of some service in the investiga-
tion which lies before us. There are one or two minor
points which were brought out in the inquest, and which
are worth considering.”
“What are they 2”
“It appears that his arrest did not take place at once,
but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector
of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he
remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that
it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his
had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt


THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MYSTERY. 175
which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's
jury.”
“It was a confession,” I ejaculated.
“No, for it was followed by a protestation of inno-
cence.”
“Coming on the top of such a damning series of
events, it was at least a most suspicious remark.”
“On the contrary,” said Holmes, “it is the brightest
rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However
innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute
imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very
black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his
own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have
looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such sur-
prise or anger would not be natural under the circum-
stances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a
scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation
marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of
considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his re-
mark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you
consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father,
and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so
far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him,
and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so
important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-
reproach and contrition which are displayed in his re-
mark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind,
rather than of a guilty one.”
I shook my head. “Many men have been hanged on
far slighter evidence,” I remarked.
“So they have. And many men have been wrongfully
hanged.”
“What is the young man's own account of the
matter?”


178 THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY.
“The Coroner: I understand that the cry of ‘Cooee"
was a common signal between you and your father?
“Witness: It was.
“The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it
before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had
returned from Bristol 2 ”
“Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not
know.
“A Juryman: Did you see nothing that aroused your
suspicion when you returned on hearing the cry, and
found your father fatally injured?
“Witness: Nothing definite.
“The Coroner: What do you mean?
“Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed
out into the open, that I could think of nothing except
of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I
ran forward something lay upon the ground, to the left of
me. It seemed to me to be something gray in color, a
coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from
my father I looked round for it, but it was gone.
“‘Do you mean that it disappeared before you went
for help?’
“‘Yes, it was gone.’
“‘You cannot say what it was?’
“‘No ; I had a feeling something was there.”
“‘How far from the body?'
“‘A dozen yards or so.”
“‘And how far from the edge of the wood?'
“‘About the same.’
“‘Then if it was removed it was while you were within
a dozen yards of it?’
“‘Yes, but with my back toward it.'
“This concluded the examination of the witness.”
“I see,” said I, as I glanced down the column, “that


THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MFSTERY. 179
the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe
upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with
reason, to the discrepancy about his father having sig-
nalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give
details of his conversation with his father, and his singu-
lar account of his father's dying words. They are all, as
he remarks, very much against the son.”
Holmes laughed softly to himself, and stretched him-
self out upon the cushioned seat. “Both you and the coro-
ner have been at some pains,” said he, “to signal out the
very strongest points in the young man's favor. Don't
you see that you alternately give him credit for having
too much imagination and too little 2 Too little, if he
could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him
the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from
his own inner consciousness anything so outré as a dying
reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth.
No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view
that what this young man says is true, and we shall see
whither this hypothesis will lead us. And now here is
my own pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I
say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We
lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in
twenty minutes.”
It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after pass-
ing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the
broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty
little country town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man,
furtive and shy-looking, was waiting for us upon the plat-
form. In spite of the light brown dust-coat and leather
leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic sur-
roundings, I had no difficulty in recognizing Lestrade,
of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford
Arms, where a room had already been engaged for us.


182 THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MySTERY.
“No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. Mc-
Carthy was in favor of it.” A quick blush passed over
her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen,
questioning glances at her.
“Thank you for this information,” said he, “May I
see your father if I call to-morrow?”
“I am afraid the doctor won't allow it.”
“The doctor 2"
“Yes. Have you not heard? Poor father has never
been strong for years back, but this has broken him
down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr.
Willows says that he is a wreck, and that his ner-
vous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only
man alive who had known dad in the old days in Wic-
toria.”
“Ha! In Victoria! That is important.”
“Yes, at the mines.”
“Quite so; at the gold mines, where, as I understand,
Mr. Turner made his money.”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material
assistance to me.”
“You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow.
No doubt you will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if
you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be
innocent.”
“I will, Miss Turner.”
“I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he
misses me so if I leave him. Good-by, and God help you
in your undertaking.” She hurried from the room as
impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels
of her carriage rattle off down the street.
“I am ashamed of you, Holmes,” said Lestrade, with
dignity, after a few minutes' silence. “Why should you


THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY. 183
rise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint? I am
not over tender of heart, but I call it cruel.”
“I think that I see my way to clearing James McCar-
thy,” said Holmes. “Have you an order to see him in
prison?”
“Yes, but only for you and me.”
“Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going
out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and
see him to-night?”
“Ample.”
“Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will
find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of
hours.”
I walked down to the station with them, and then
wandered through the streets of the little town, finally
returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and
tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The
puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when com-
pared to the deep mystery through which we were grop-
ing, and I found my attention wander so continually
from the fiction to the fact, that I at last flung it across
the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration
of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy
young man's story was absolutely true, then what hellish
thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary ca-
lamity could have occurred between the time when he
parted from his father and the moment when, drawn back
by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was some-
thing terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might
not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my
medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the
weekly county paper which contained a verbatim account
of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated
that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the


THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MYSTERY. 185
*
fagged by a long journey. I have seen young Mc-
Carthy.”
“And what did you learn from him?”
“Nothing.”
“Could he throw no light?”
“None at all. I was inclined to think at one time
that he knew who had done it, and was screening him or
her, but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as every-
one else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though
comely to look at, and, I should think, sound at heart.”
“I cannot admire his taste,” I remarked, “if it is in-
deed a fact that he was averse to a marriage with so
charming a young lady as this Miss Turner.”
“Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow
is madly, insanely in love with her, but some two years
ago, when he was only a lad, and before he really knew
her, for she had been away five years at a boarding school,
what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a bar-
maid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No
one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine
how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not
doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what
he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer
frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into
the air when his father, at their last interview, was goad-
ing him on to propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand,
he had no means of supporting himself, and his father,
who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have
thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It
was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last
three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where
he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good
has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding
from the papers that he is in serious trouble, and likely


188 THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY.
though not the pair which he had then had. Having
measured these very carefully from seven or eight differ-
ent points, Holmes desired to be led to the courtyard,
from which we all followed the winding track which led to
Boscombe Pool.
Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot
upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known
the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have
failed to recognize him. His face flushed and darkened.
His brows were drawn into two hard, black lines, while
his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glit-
ter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed,
his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whip-
cord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to
dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his
mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter
before him, that a question or remark fell unheeded
upon his ears, or at the most only provoked a quick, im-
patient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his
way along the track which ran through the meadows,
and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool.
It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and
there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and
amid the short grass which bounded it on either side.
Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead,
and once he made quite a little détour into the meadow.
Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indiffer-
ent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with
the interest which sprang from the conviction that every
one of his actions was directed toward a definite end.
The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of
water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary
between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the
wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it


THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY. 189
upon the further side we could see the red jutting pin-
nacles which marked the sight of the rich land-owner's
dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods
grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden
grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees
and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed
us the exact spot at which the body had been found,
and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly
see the traces which had been left by the fall of the
stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager
face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be
read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog
who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my com-
panion.
“What did you go into the pool for ?” he asked.
“I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be
some weapon or other trace. But how on earth—”
“Oh, tut, tut ! I have no time ! That left foot of yours
with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could
trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how
simple it would all have been had I been here before they
came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here
is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they
have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body.
But there are three separate tracks of the same feet.”
He drew out a lens, and lay down upon his waterproof
to have a better view, talking all the time rather to him-
self than to us. “These are young McCarthy's feet.
Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly so that
the soles are deeply marked, and the heels hardly visible.
That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father
on the ground. Then here are the father's feet as he
paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the but-
end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this?


190 THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MYSTERY.
Ha, ha! What have we here? Tip-toes! tip-toes! Square
too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come
again—of course that was for the cloak. Now where did
they come from ?” He ran up and down, sometimes
losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well
within the edge of the wood, and under the shadow of
a great beech, the largest tree in the neighborhood.
Holmes traced his way to the further side of this, and lay
down once more upon his face with a little cry of satis-
faction. For a long time he remained there, turning over
the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to
me to be dust into an envelope, and examining with his
lens not only the ground, but even the bark of the tree as
far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among
the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained.
Then he followed a pathway through the wood until
he came to the high road, where all traces were lost.
“It has been a case of considerable interest,” he re-
marked, returning to his natural manner. “I fancy that
this gray house on the right must be the lodge. I think
that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and per-
haps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive
back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I
shall be with you presently.”
It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab,
and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him
the stone which he had picked up in the wood.
“This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, hold-
ing it out. “The murder was done with it.”
“I see no marks.” .
“There are none.”
“How do you know, then?”
“The grass was growing under it. It had only lain
there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it


THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY. 191
had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There
is no sign of any other weapon.”
“And the murderer?”
“Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg,
wears thick-soled shooting boots and a gray cloak, smokes
Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-
knife in his pocket. There are several other indications,
but these may be enough to aid us in our search.”
Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a scep-
tic,” he said. “Theories are all very well, but we have to
deal with a hard-headed British jury.”
“Nous verrons,” answered Holmes, calmly. “You work
your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy
this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by
the avening train.”
“And leave your case unfinished?”
“No, finished.”
“But the mystery 2"
“It is solved.”
“Who was the criminal, then?”
“The gentleman I describe.”
“But, who is he *
“Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is
not such a populous neighborhood.”
Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. “I am a practical
man,” he said, “and I really cannot undertake to go about
the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a
game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scot-
land Yard.”
“All right,” said Holmes, quietly. “I have given you
the chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-by. I shall
drop you a line before I leave.”
Having left Lestrade at his rooms we drove to our hotel,
where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent


THE BOSQOMBE WALLAY MYSTERY. 193
last night.” He put his hand over part of the map.
“What do you read?” he asked.
“ARAT,” I read.
“And now?” He raised his hand.
“BALLARAT.”
“Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and
of which his son only caught the last two syllables. He
was trying to utter the name of his murderer. So-and-so,
of Ballarat.”
“It is wonderful l’” I exclaimed.
“It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the
fleld down considerably. The possession of a gray gar-
ment was a third point which, granting the son's state-
ment to be correct, was a certainty. We have come now
out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an
Australian from Ballarat with a gray cloak.”
“Certainly.”
“And one who was at home in the district, for the pool
can only be approached by the farm or by the estate,
where strangers could hardly wander.”
“Quite so.”
“Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examina-
tion of the ground I gained the trifling details which I
gave to that imbecile, Lestrade, as to the personality of the
criminal.”
“But how did you gain them?”
“You know my method. It is founded upon the ob.
servance of trifles.”
“His height, I know, that you might roughly judge
from the length of his stride. His boots, too, might br
told from their traces.”
“Yes, they were peculiar boots.”
“But his lameness 2"
“The impression of his right foot was always less dis.


194 THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MITSTERY.
tinct than his left. He put less weight upon it. Why?
Because he limped—he was lame.”
“But his left-handedness.”
“You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury
as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was
struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the
left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-
handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the
interview between the father and son. He had even
smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my spe-
cial knowledge of tobacco ashes enabled me to pronounce
as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some
attention to this, and written a little monograph on the
ashes of one hundred and forty different varieties of pipe,
cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I
then looked round and discovered the stump among the
moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of
the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam.”
“And the cigar-holder?”
“I could see that the end had not been in his mouth.
Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off.
not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I de-
duced a blunt penknife.”
“Holmes,” I said, “you have drawn a net round this
man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an
innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord
which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all
this points. The culprit is 23.
“Mr. John Turner,” cried the hotel waiter, opening the
door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.
The man who entered was a strange and impressive
figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave
the appearance of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-
lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed


THE BOSOOMBE WALLEY MX STERY. 195
that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of
character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and out-
standing, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of
dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of
an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nos-
trils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me
at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and
chronic disease.
“Pray sit down on the sofa,” said Holmes, gently.
“You had my note?”
“Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that
you wished to see me here to avoid scandal.”
“I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.”
“And why did you wish to see me?” He looked
across at my companion with despair in his weary eyes, as
though his question were already answered.
“Yes,” said Holmes, answering the look rather than the
words. “It is so. I know all about McCarthy.”
The old man sank his face in his hands. “God help
me!” he cried. “But I would not have let the young
man come to harm. I give you my word that I would
have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Holmes, gravely.
“I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear
girl. It would break her heart—it will break her heart
when she hears that I am arrested.”
“It may not come to that,” said Holmes.
“What l”
“I am no official agent. I understand that it was your
daughter who required my presence here, and I am acting
in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, how-
ever.”
“I am a dying man,” said old Turner. “I have had dia-
betes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether


196 THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MYSTERY.
I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my
own roof than in a jail.”
Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in
his hand and a bundle of paper before him. “Just tell
us the truth,” he said. “I shall jot down the facts. You
will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then I could
produce your confession at the last extremity to save
young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it
unless it is absolutely needed.”
“It's as well,” said the old man; “it’s a question
whether I shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little
to me, but I should wish to spare Alice the shock. And
now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a
long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell.
“You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was
a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of
the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon
me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'll
tell you first how I came to be in his power.
“It was in the early sixties at the diggings. I was a
young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn
my hand to anything; I got among bad companions, took
to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush,
and in a word became what you would call over here a
highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild,
free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or
stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black
Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party
is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang.
“One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to
Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it.
There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close
thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first
volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before


198 THE BOSCOMBE WALLEY MPSTERY.
question—land, money, houses—until at last he asked a
thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice.
“His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl,
and as I was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine
stroke to him that his lad should step into the whole prop-
erty. But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed
stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the
lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I
stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do
his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between
our houses to talk it over.
“When I went down there I found him talking with his
son, so I smoked a cigar, and waited behind a tree until
he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk all that
was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost.
He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as
little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut
from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and
all that I held most dear should be in the power of such
a man as this. Could I not snap the bond 2 I was al-
ready a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of
mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate
was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could
be saved, if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it,
Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have
sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it.
But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes
which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck
him down with no more compunction than if he had been
some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back
his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though
I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had
dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen,
of all that occurred.”














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O
PRESERVING THE LIFE
OF YOUR HOME LIBRARY
The New York Public Library has
recently begun the monumental
task of cleaning and restoring the
3.5 million books shelved in the
stacks of its Central Research
Library on Fifth Avenue. The
Collections Cleaning Project,
funded by a grant from Philip
Morris Companies Inc., offers a
once-in-a-century opportunity to
preserve the lifeblood of the
Library—its books.
Readers everywhere recognize
that books need special care.
Whether the books in your
personal library are rare or just
special to you, here are six steps
designed to help keep them in
good condition.
GºD
MA NTAIN A STABLE
TEMPERATURE AND HUMIDITY.
A steady temperature of 65-70
degrees Fahrenheit and 50 percent
relative humidity is recommended.
G*D
Clean THE EXTERIOR
SURFACES OF THE BOOKS.
Use a commercially available dust
cloth to keep books free of dirt and
dust. Treat leather bindings the same
as all other bindings.