That night, shortly before midnight, Holmes left me. "I've got to finishthis job," said he. "The most ticklish part of the business is yet to come."
"Great Scott, Holmes!" I cried. "Isn't the thing done?"
"No--of course not," he replied. "I've got to bust open the Kenesaw safe."
"Now, my dear Raffles," I began, "why aren't you satisfied with what you'vedone already. Why must you--"
"Shut up, Jenkins," he interrupted, with a laugh. "If you knew what I wasgoing to do you wouldn't kick--that is, unless you've turned crook too?"
"Not I," said I, indignantly.
"You don't expect me to keep these bonds, do you?" he asked.
"But what are you going to do with them?" I retorted.
"Put 'em back in the Kenesaw Bank, where they belong, so that they'll befound there to-morrow morning. As sure as I don't, Billington Rand isdoomed," said he. "It's a tough job, but I've been paid a thousand dollarsby his family, to find out what he's up to, and by thunder, after followinghis trail for three weeks, I've got such a liking for the boy that I'm goingto save him if it can be done, and if there's any Raffles left in me, such asimple proposition as cracking a bank and puting the stuff back where itbelongs, in a safe of which I have the combination, isn't going to stand inmy way. Don't fret, old man, it's as good as done. Good-night."
And Raffles Holmes was off. I passed a feverish night, but at five o'clockthe following morning a telephone message set all my misgivings at rest.
"Hello, Jenkins!" came Raffles's voice over the wire.
"Hello," I replied.
"Just rang you up to let you know that it's all right. The stuff's replaced.Easiest job ever--like opening oysters. Pleasant dreams to you," he said,and, click, the connection was broken.
Two weeks later Billington Rand resigned from the Kenesaw Bank and wentWest, where he is now leading the simple life on a sheep-ranch. Hisresignation was accepted with regret, and the board of directors, as aspecial mark of their liking, voted him a gift of $2500 for faithfulservices.
"And the best part of it was," said Holmes, when he told me of the youngman's good fortune, "that his accounts were as straight as a string."
"Holmes, you are a bully chap!" I cried, in a sudden excess of enthusiasm."You do things for nothing sometimes--"
"Nothing!" echoed Holmes--"nothing! Why, that job was worth a milliondollars to me, Jenkins--but not in coin. Just in good solid satisfaction insaving a fine young chap like Billington Rand from the clutches of a sharperand sneaking skinflint like old Bucket-shop Gallagher."