ogether by his blood; near him a poker with the black end glistening;
in a corner his desk, ransacked, littered. A clock ticked noisily on
the chimney-piece; for perhaps a hundred seconds there was no other
sound.

Raffles stood very still, staring down at the dead, as a man might
stare into an abyss after striding blindly to its brink. His breath
came audibly through wide nostrils; he made no other sign, and his lips
seemed sealed.

"That light!" said I, hoarsely; "the light we saw under the door!"

With a start he turned to me.

"It's true! I had forgotten it. It was in here I saw it first!"

"He must be upstairs still!"

"If he is we'll soon rout him out. Come on!"

Instead I laid a hand upon his arm, imploring him to reflect--that his
enemy was dead now--that we should certainly be involved--that now or
never was our own time to escape. He shook me off in a sudden fury of
impatience, a reckless contempt in his eyes, and, bidding me save my
own skin if I liked, he once more turned his back upon me, and this
time left me half resolved to take him at his word. Had he forgotten
on what errand he himself was here? Was he determined that this night
should end in black disaster? As I asked myself these questions his
match flared in the hall; in another moment the stairs were creaking
under his feet, even as they had creaked under those of the murderer;
and the humane instinct that inspired him in defiance of his risk was
borne in also upon my slower sensibilities. Could we let the murderer
go? My answer was to bound up the creaking stairs and to overhaul
Raffles on the landing.

But three doors presented themselves; the first opened into a bedroom
with the bed turned down but undisturbed; the second room was empty in
every sense; the third door was locked.

Raffles lit the landing gas.

"He's in there," said he, cocking his revolver. "Do you remember how we
used to break into the studies at school? Here goes!"

His flat foot crashed over the keyhole, the lock gave, the door flew
open, and in the sudden draught the landing gas heeled over like a
cobble in a squall; as the flame righted itself I saw a fixed bath, two
bath-towels knotted together--an open window--a cowering figure--and
Raffles struck aghast on the threshold.

"JACK--RUTTER?"

The words came thick and slow with horror, and in horror I heard myself
repeating them, while the cowering figure by the bathroom window rose
gradually erect.