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The Doings of Raffles Haw
THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW
Arthur Conan Doyle
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1. A DOUBLE ENIGMA
2. THE TENANT OF THE NEW HALL.
3. A HOUSE OF WONDERS.
4. FROM CLIME TO CLIME.
5. LAURA'S REQUEST
6. A STRANGE VISITOR
7. THE WORKINGS OF WEALTH.
8. A BILLIONAIRE'S PLANS.
9. A NEW DEPARTURE
10. THE GREAT SECRET
11. A CHEMICAL DEMONSTRATION.
12. A FAMILY JAR.
13. A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
14. THE SPREAD OF THE BLIGHT.
15. THE GREATER SECRET.
CHAPTER I.
A DOUBLE ENIGMA.
"I'm afraid that he won't come," said Laura McIntyre, in a
disconsolate voice.
"Why not?"
"Oh, look at the weather; it is something too awful."
As she spoke a whirl of snow beat with a muffled patter against the
cosy red-curtained window, while a long blast of wind shrieked and
whistled through the branches of the great white-limbed elms which
skirted the garden.
Robert McIntyre rose from the sketch upon which he had been working,
and taking one of the lamps in his hand peered out into the darkness.
The long skeleton limbs of the bare trees tossed and quivered dimly
amid the whirling drift. His sister sat by the fire, her fancy-work
in her lap, and looked up at her brothers profile which showed against
the brilliant yellow light. It was a handsome face, young and fair
and clear cut, with wavy brown hair combed backwards and rippling down
into that outward curve at the ends which one associates with the
artistic temperament. There was refinement too in his slightly
puckered eyes, his dainty gold-rimmed _pince-nez_ glasses, and in the
black velveteen coat which caught the light so richly upon its
shoulder. In his mouth only there was something--a suspicion of
coarseness, 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 himself 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 line 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 resolved itself, when analysed, into 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 somewhat cross she looked as
she leaned back in the armchair, the tangle of bright-coloured silks
and of drab holland upon her lap, her hands clasped behind her head,
with her snowy forearms and little pink elbows projecting on either
side.
"I know he won't come," she repeated.
"Nonsense, Laura! Of course he'll come. A sailor and afraid of the
weather!"
"Ha!" 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 murmured.
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
straggling 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 Bankruptcy 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 unhinged.
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
Midland city, they were still able to live with some approach 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 turning 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 dull after the life and bustle of Edgbaston. Their
discomfort was aggravated by the conduct of their father, whose life
now was one long wail over his misfortunes, and who alternately sought
comfort in the Prayer-book and in the decanter for the ills which had
befallen him.
To Laura, however, Tamfield presented one attraction, which was now
about to be taken from her. Their choice of the little country hamlet
as their residence had been determined by the fact of their old
friend, the Reverend John Spurling, having been nominated as the
vicar. Hector Spurling, the elder son, two months Laura's senior, had
been engaged to her for some years, and was, indeed, upon the point of
marrying her when the sudden financial crash had disarranged their
plans. A sub-lieutenant in the Navy, he was home on leave at present,
and hardly an evening passed without his making his way from the
Vicarage to Elmdene, where the McIntyres resided. To-day, however, a
note had reached them to the effect that he had been suddenly ordered
on duty, and that he must rejoin his ship at Portsmouth by the next
evening. He would look in, were it but for half-an-hour, to bid them
adieu.
"Why, where's Hector?" asked Mr. McIntyre, blinking round from side to
side.
"He's not come, father. How could you expect him to come on such a
night as this? Why, there must be two feet of snow in the glebe
field."
"Not come, eh?" croaked the old man, throwing himself down upon the
sofa. "Well, well, it only wants him and his father to throw us over,
and the thing will be complete"
"How can you even hint at such a thing, father?" cried Laura
indignantly. "They have been as true as steel. What would they think
if they heard you"
"I think, Robert," he said, disregarding his daughter'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 there is nothing in the house, father," she said.
"Laura! 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 towards
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? 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--"
Pip! came a little paper pellet from his sister's chair on to the
sketch-book in front of him! He unrolled it and held it to the light.
"For Heaven's sake let him go!" was scrawled across it.
"Well, in any case, wrap yourself up warm," he continued, laying bare
his sudden change of front with a masculine clumsiness which horrified
his sister. "Perhaps it is not so cold as it looks. You can't lose
your way, that is one blessing. And it is not more than a hundred
yards."
With many mumbles and grumbles at his daughter's want of foresight,
old McIntyre struggled into his great-coat and wrapped his scarf round
his long thin throat. A sharp gust of cold wind made the lamps
flicker as he threw open the hall-door. His two children listened to
the dull fall of his footsteps as he slowly picked out the winding
garden path.
"He gets worse--he becomes intolerable," said Robert at last. "We
should not have let him out; he may make a public exhibition of
himself."
"But it's Hector's last night," pleaded Laura. "It would be dreadful
if they met and he noticed anything. That was why I wished him to
go."
"Then you were only just in time," remarked her brother, "for I hear
the gate go, and--yes, you see."
As he spoke a cheery hail came from outside, with a sharp rat-tat at
the window. Robert stepped out and threw open the door to admit a
tall young man, whose black frieze jacket was all mottled and
glistening with snow crystals. Laughing loudly he shook himself like
a Newfoundland dog, and kicked the snow from his boots before entering
the little lamplit room.
Hector Spurling's profession was written in every line of his face.
The clean-shaven lip and chin, the little fringe of side whisker, the
straight decisive mouth, and the hard weather-tanned cheeks all spoke
of the Royal Navy. Fifty such faces may be seen any night of the year
round the mess-table of the Royal Naval College in Portsmouth
Dockyard--faces which bear a closer resemblance to each other than
brother does commonly to brother. They are all cast in a common
mould, the products of a system which teaches early self-reliance,
hardihood, and manliness--a fine type upon the whole; less refined and
less intellectual, perhaps, than their brothers of the land, but full
of truth and energy and heroism. In figure he was straight, tall, and
well-knit, with keen grey eyes, and the sharp prompt manner of a man
who has been accustomed both to command and to obey.
"You had my note?" he said, as he entered the room. "I have to go
again, Laura. Isn't it a bore? Old Smithers is short-handed, and
wants me back at once." He sat down by the girl, and put his brown
hand across her white one. "It won't be a very large order this
time," he continued. "It's the flying squadron business--Madeira,
Gibraltar, Lisbon, and home. I shouldn't wonder if we were back in
March."
"It seems only the other day that you landed." she answered.
"Poor little girl! But it won't be long. Mind you take good care of
her, Robert when I am gone. And when I come again, Laura, it will be
the last time mind! Hang the money! There are plenty who manage on
less. We need not have a house. Why should we? You can get very
nice rooms in Southsea at 2 pounds a week. McDougall, our paymaster,
has just married, and he only gives thirty shillings. You would not
be afraid, Laura?"
"No, indeed."
"The dear old governor is so awfully cautious. Wait, wait, wait,
that's always his cry. I tell him that he ought to have been in the
Government Heavy Ordnance Department. But I'll speak to him tonight.
I'll talk him round. See if I don't. And you must speak to your own
governor. Robert here will back you up. And here are the ports and
the dates that we are due at each. Mind that you have a letter
waiting for me at every one."
He took a slip of paper from the side pocket of his coat, but, instead
of handing it to the young lady, he remained staring at it with the
utmost astonishment upon his face.
"Well, I never!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Robert; what do you call
this?"
"Hold it to the light. Why, it's a fifty-pound Bank of England note.
Nothing remarkable about it that I can see."
"On the contrary. It's the queerest thing that ever happened to me. I
can't make head or tail of it."
"Come, then, Hector," cried Miss McIntyre with a challenge in her
eyes. "Something very queer happened to me also to-day. I'll bet a
pair of gloves that my adventure was more out of the common than
yours, though I have nothing so nice to show at the end of it."
"Come, I'll take that, and Robert here shall be the judge."
"State your cases." The young artist shut up his sketch-book, and
rested his head upon his hands with a face of mock solemnity. "Ladies
first! Go along Laura, though I think I know something of your
adventure already."
"It was this morning, Hector," she said. "Oh, by the way, the story
will make you wild. I had forgotten that. However, you mustn't mind,
because, really, the poor fellow was perfectly mad."
"What on earth was it?" asked the young officer, his eyes travelling
from the bank-note to his _fiancee_.
"Oh, it was harmless enough, and yet you will confess it was very
queer. I had gone out for a walk, but as the snow began to fall I took
shelter under the shed which the workmen have built at the near end of
the great new house. The men have gone, you know, and the owner is
supposed to be coming to-morrow, but the shed is still standing. I
was sitting there upon a packing-case when a man came down the road
and stopped under the same shelter. He was a quiet, pale-faced man,
very tall and thin, not much more than thirty, I should think, poorly
dressed, but with the look and bearing of a gentleman. He asked me
one or two questions about the village and the people, which, of
course, I answered, until at last we found ourselves chatting away in
the pleasantest and easiest fashion about all sorts of things. The
time passed so quickly that I forgot all about the snow until he drew
my attention to its having stopped for the moment. Then, just as I
was turning to go, what in the world do you suppose that he did? He
took a step towards me, looked in a sad pensive way into my face, and
said: `I wonder whether you could care for me if I were without a
penny.' Wasn't it strange? I was so frightened that I whisked out of
the shed, and was off down the road before he could add another word.
But really, Hector, you need not look so black, for when I look back
at it I can quite see from his tone and manner that he meant no harm.
He was thinking aloud, without the least intention of being offensive.
I am convinced that the poor fellow was mad."
"Hum! There was some method in his madness, it seems to me," remarked
her brother.
"There would have been some method in my kicking," said the lieutenant
savagely. "I never heard of a more outrageous thing in my life."
"Now, I said that you would be wild!" She laid her white hand upon
the sleeve of his rough frieze jacket. "It was nothing. I shall
never see the poor fellow again. He was evidently a stranger to this
part of the country. But that was my little adventure. Now let us
have yours."
The young man crackled the bank-note between his fingers 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 Vicarage 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 fellow
thought that I was a bumpkin, for we did not exchange 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 advertisement
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 crinkled note with
astonishment upon their faces.
"Why, your unknown traveller must have been Monte Cristo, or
Rothschild at the least!" said Robert. "I am bound to say, Laura,
that I think you have lost your bet."
"Oh, I am quite content to lose it. I never heard of 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 stranger a service--perhaps a greater service
than you know of--and he meant this as a little memento of the
occasion. I do not see that there is any possible reason against your
keeping it."
"Oh, come!" said the young sailor, with an embarrassed 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," observed 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 coloured wools which stood beside
her. "Now, Laura, I must up anchor, for I promised the governor to be
back by nine. It won't be long this time, dear, and it shall be the
last. Good-bye, Robert! Good luck!"
"Good-bye, Hector! _Bon voyage!_"
The young artist remained by the table, while his sister followed her
lover to the door. In the dim light of the hall he could see their
figures and overhear their words.
"Next time, little girl?"
"Next time be it, Hector."
"And nothing can part us?"
"Nothing."
"In the 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.