hed the street; the sky behind St.
Stephen's had flushed and blackened like an angry face; the lamps were
lit, and under every one I was unreasonable enough to look for
Raffles. Then I made foolishly sure that I should find him hanging
about the station, and hung thereabouts myself until one Richmond
train had gone without me. In the end I walked over the bridge to
Waterloo, and took the first train to Teddington instead. That made a
shorter walk of it, but I had to grope my way through a white fog from
the river to Ham Common, and it was the hour of our cosy dinner when I
reached our place of retirement. There was only a flicker of firelight
on the blinds: I was the first to return after all. It was nearly four
hours since Raffles had stolen away from my side in the ominous
precincts of Scotland Yard. Where could he be? Our landlady wrung her
hands over him; she had cooked a dinner after her favorite's heart,
and I let it spoil before making one of the most melancholy meals of
my life.

Up to midnight there was no sign of him; but long before this time I
had reassured our landlady with a voice and face that must have given
my words the lie. I told her that Mr. Ralph (as she used to call him)
had said something about going to the theatre; that I thought he had
given up the idea, but I must have been mistaken, and should certainly
sit up for him. The attentive soul brought in a plate of sandwiches
before she retired; and I prepared to make a night of it in a chair by
the sitting-room fire. Darkness and bed I could not face in my
anxiety. In a way I felt as though duty and loyalty called me out into
the winter's night; and yet whither should I turn to look for Raffles?
I could think of but one place, and to seek him there would be to
destroy myself without aiding him. It was my growing conviction that
he had been recognized when leaving Scotland Yard, and either taken
then and there, or else hunted into some new place of hiding. It would
all be in the morning papers; and it was all his own fault. He had
thrust his head into the lion's mouth, and the lion's jaws had
snapped. Had he managed to withdraw his head in time?

There was a bottle at my elbow, and that night I say deliberately that
it was not my enemy but my friend. It procured me at last some
surcease from my suspense. I fell fast asleep in my chair before the
fire. The lamp was still burning, and the fire red, when I awoke; but
I sat very stiff in the iron clut