through the darkness, drawn up over his set teeth. In his hand
glittered a pair of handcuffs, and before I knew it one had snapped its
jaws about my right wrist.

"Now come this way," said Lord Ernest, showing me a revolver also, "and
wait for your friend. And, recollect, a single syllable of warning
will be your death!"

With that the ruffian led me to the very bridge I had just crossed at
Raffles's heels, and handcuffed me to the iron rail midway across the
chasm. It no longer felt warm to my touch, but icy as the blood in all
my veins.

So this high-born hypocrite had beaten us at our game and his, and
Raffles had met his match at last! That was the most intolerable
thought, that Raffles should be down in the flat on my account, and
that I could not warn him of his impending fate; for how was it
possible without making such an outcry as should bring the mansions
about our ears? And there I shivered on that wretched plank, chained
like Andromeda to the rock, with a black infinity above and below; and
before my eyes, now grown familiar with the peculiar darkness, stood
Lord Ernest Belville, waiting for Raffles to emerge with full hands and
unsuspecting heart! Taken so horribly unawares, even Raffles must fall
an easy prey to a desperado in resource and courage scarcely second to
himself, but one whom he had fatally underrated from the beginning.
Not that I paused to think how the thing had happened; my one concern
was for what was to happen next.

And what did happen was worse than my worst foreboding, for first a
light came flickering into the sort of companion-hatch at the head of
the stairs, and finally Raffles--in his shirt-sleeves! He was not only
carrying a candle to put the finishing touch to him as a target; he had
dispensed with coat and waistcoat downstairs, and was at once
full-handed and unarmed.

"Where are you, old chap?" he cried, softly, himself blinded by the
light he carried; and he advanced a couple of steps towards Belville.
"This isn't you, is it?"

And Raffles stopped, his candle held on high, a folding chair under the
other arm.

"No, I am not your friend," replied Lord Ernest, easily; "but kindly
remain standing exactly where you are, and don't lower that candle an
inch, unless you want your brains blown into the street."

Raffles said never a word, but for a moment did as he was bid; and the
unshaken flame of the candle was testimony alike to the stillness of
the night and t