A week later, Holmes brought me a magnificent pearl scarf-pin.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Your share of the swag," he answered. "I returned the pearl necklace toBar, LeDuc & Co., with a full statement of how it came into my possession.They rewarded me with this ruby ring and that stick-pin."
Holmes held up his right hand, on the fourth finger of which glistened abrilliant blood-red stone worth not less than fifteen hundred dollars.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I wondered what you were going to do with the necklace," I said.
"So did I--for three days," said Holmes, "and then, when I realized that Iwas a single man, I decided to give it up. If I'd had a wife to wear anecklace--well, I'm a little afraid the Raffles side of my nature would havewon out."
"I wonder whatever became of Darlington," said I.
"I don't know. Sommers says he left town suddenly that same Wednesday night,without paying his bill," Holmes answered.
"And Cato?"
"I didn't inquire, but, from what I know of Bob Hollister, I am ratherinclined to believe that Cato left the Powhatan by way of the front window,or possibly out through the plumbing, in some way," laughed Holmes. "Eitherway would be the most comfortable under the circumstances."
XTHE MAJOR-GENERAL'S PEPPERPOTS
I had often wondered during the winter whether or no it would be quite theproper thing for me to take my friend Raffles Holmes into the sacredprecincts of my club. By some men--and I am one of them--the club, despitethe bad name that clubs in general have as being antagonistic to the home,is looked upon as an institution that should be guarded almost as carefullyagainst the intrusion of improper persons as is one's own habitat, and whileI should never have admitted for a moment that Raffles was an undesirablechap to have around, I could not deny that in view of certaincharacteristics which I knew him to possess, the propriety of taking himinto "The Heraclean" was seriously open to question. My doubts were set atrest, however, on that point one day in January last, when I observed seatedat one of our luncheon-tables the Reverend Dr. Mulligatawnny, Rector ofSaint Mammon-in-the-Fields, a highly esteemed member of the organization,who had with him no less a person than Mr. E. H. Merryman, the railwaymagnate, whose exploits in Wall Street have done much to give to that goldenhighway the particular kind of perfume which it now exudes to the nostrilsof people of sensitive honor. Surely, if Dr. Mulligatawnny was within hisrights in having Mr. Merryman present, I need have no misgivings as to minein having Raffles Holmes at the same table. The predatory instinct in hisnature was as a drop of water in the sea to that ocean of knownacquisitiveness which has floated Mr. Merryman into his high place in theworld of finance, and as far as the moral side of the two men was consideredrespectively, I felt tolerably confident that the Recording Angel's account-bookswould show a larger balance on the right side to the credit of Rafflesthan to that of his more famous contemporary. Hence it was that I decidedthe question in my friend's favor, and a week or two later had him in at"The Heraclean" for luncheon. The dining-room was filled with the usualassortment of interesting men--men who had really done something in life andwho suffered from none of that selfish modesty which leads some of us tohide our light under the bushel of silence. There was the Honorable PoultryTickletoe, the historian, whose articles on the shoddy quality of the modernPanama hat have created such a stir throughout the hat trade; Mr. WilliamDarlington Ponkapog, the poet, whose epic on the "Reign of Gold" is one ofthe longest, and some writers say the thickest, in the English language;James Whistleton Potts, the eminent portraitist, whose limnings of hispatients have won him a high place among the caricaturists of the age,Robert Dozyphrase, the expatriated American novelist, now of London, whoselatest volume of sketches, entitled _Intricacies_, has been equally thedelight of his followers and the despair of students of the occult; and,what is more to the purpose of our story, Major-General Carrington Cox,U.S.A., retired. These gentlemen, with others of equal distinction whom Ihave not the space to name, were discussing with some degree of simultaneitytheir own achievements in the various fields of endeavor to which theirlives had been devoted. They occupied the large centre-table which has formany a year been the point of contact for the distinguished minds of whichthe membership of "The Heraclean" is made up; the tennis-net, as it were,over which the verbal balls of discussion have for so many years volleyed tothe delight of countless listeners.
Raffles and I sat apart at one of the smaller tables by the window, where wecould hear as much of the conversation at the larger board as we wished--somany members of "The Heraclean" are deaf that to talk loud has become quitede rigueur there--and at the same time hold converse with each other intones best suited to the confidential quality of our communications. We hadenjoyed the first two courses of our repast when we became aware thatGeneral Carrington Cox had succeeded in getting to the floor, and as heproceeded with what he had to say, I observed, in spite of his efforts toconceal the fact, that Raffles Holmes was rather more deeply interested inthe story the General was telling than in such chance observations as I wasmaking. Hence I finished the luncheon in silence and even as did Holmes,listened to the General's periods--and they were as usual worth listeningto.
"It was in the early eighties," said General Cox. "I was informally attachedto the Spanish legation at Madrid. The King of Spain, Alphonso XII, wasabout to be married to the highly esteemed lady who is now the Queen-Motherof that very interesting youth, Alphonso XIII. In anticipation of the eventthe city was in a fever of gayety and excitement that always attends upon aroyal function of that nature. Madrid was crowded with visitors of allsorts, some of them not as desirable as they might be, and here and there,in the necessary laxity of the hour, one or two perhaps that were mostinimical to the personal safety and general welfare of the King. Alphonso,like many another royal personage, was given to the old Haroun Al Raschidhabit of travelling about at night in a more or less impenetrable incognito,much to the distaste of his ministers and to the apprehension of the police,who did not view with any too much satisfaction the possibility of disasterto the royal person and the consequent blame that would rest upon theirshoulders should anything of a serious nature befall. To all of this,however, the King was oblivious, and it so happened one night that in thecourse of his wanderings he met with the long dreaded mix-up. He and his twocompanions fell in with a party of cut-throats who promptly proceeded tohold them up. The companions were speedily put out of business by theattacking party, and the King found himself in the midst of a very seriousmisadventure, the least issue from which bade fair to be a thorough beating,if not an attempt on his life. It was at the moment when his chances ofescape were not one in a million, when, on my way home from the Legation,where I had been detained to a very late hour, I came upon him struggling inthe hands of four as nasty ruffians as you will find this side of thegallows. One of them held him by the arms, another was giving him a fairlyexpert imitation of how it feels to be garroted, which the other two wererifling his pockets. This was too much for me. I was in pretty fit physicalcondition at that time and felt myself to be quite the equal in a good oldAnglo-Saxon fist fight of any dozen ordinary Castilians, so I plunged intothe fray, heart and soul, not for an instant dreaming, however, what was thequality of the person to whose assistance I had come. My first step was tobowl over the garroter. Expecting no interference in his nefarious pursuitand unwarned by his companions, who were to busily engaged in theiradventure of loot to observe my approach, he was easy prey, and the good,hard whack that I gave him just under his right ear sent him flying, anunconscious mass of villanous clay, into the gutter. The surprise of theonslaught was such that the other three jumped backward, thereby releasingthe King's arms so that we were now two to three, which in a moment becametwo to two, for I lost no time in knocking out my second man with as prettya solar plexus as you ever saw. There is nothing in the world moredemoralizing than a good, solid blow straight from the shoulder to chapswhose idea of fighting is to sneak up behind you and
choke you to death, orto stick a knife into the small of your back, and had I been far less expertwith my fists, I should still have had an incalculable moral advantage oversuch riffraff. Once the odds in the matter of numbers were even, the Kingand I had no further difficulty in handling the others. His Majesty's quarrygot away by the simple act of taking to his heels, and mine, turning to dolikewise, received a salute from my right toe which, if I am any judge, musthave driven the upper end of his spine up through the top of his head. Leftalone, his Majesty held out his hand and thanked me profusely from my timelyaid, and asked my name. We thereupon bade each other good-night, and I wenton to my lodging, little dreaming of the service I had rendered to thenation.
"The following day I was astonished to receive at the Legation acommunication bearing the royal seal, commanding me to appear at the palaceat once. The summons was obeyed, and, upon entering the palace, I wasimmediately ushered into the presence of the King. He received me mostgraciously, dismissing, however, all his attendants.
"'Colonel Cox,' he said, after the first formal greetings were over, 'yourendered me a great service last night.'
"'I, your majesty?' said I. 'In what way?'
"'By putting those ruffians to flight,' said he.
"'Ah!' said I. 'Then the gentleman attacked was one of your Majesty'sfriends?'
"'I would have it so appear,' said the King. 'For a great many reasons Ishould prefer that it were not known that it was I--'
"'You, your Majesty?' I cried, really astonished. 'I had no idea--"
"'You are discretion itself, Colonel Cox,' laughed the King, 'and to assureyou of my appreciation of the fact, I beg that you will accept a small giftwhich you will some day shortly receive anonymously. It will not be at allcommensurate to the service you have rendered me, nor to the discretionwhich you have already so kindly observed regarding the principals involvedin last night's affair, but in the spirit of friendly interest andappreciation back of it, it will be of a value inestimable.'
"I began to try to tell his Majesty that my government did not permit me toaccept gifts of any kind from persons royal or otherwise, but it was notpossible to do so, and twenty minutes later my audience was over and Ireturned to the Legation with the uncomfortable sense of having placedmyself in a position where I must either violate the King's confidence toacquire the permission of Congress to accept his gift, or break the laws bywhich all who are connected with the diplomatic service, directly orindirectly, are strictly governed. I assure you it was not in the leastdegree in the hope of personal profit that I chose the latter course. Tendays later a pair of massive golden pepper-pots came to me, and, as the Kinghad intimated would be the case, there was nothing about them to show whencethey had come. Taken altogether, they were the most exquisitely wroughtspecimens of the goldsmith's artistry that I had ever seen, and upon theirunder side was inscribed in a cipher which no one unfamiliar with the affairof that midnight fracas would even have observed--'A.R. to C.C.'--AlphonsoRex to Carrington Cox being, of course, the significance thereof. They wereput away with my other belongings, and two years later, when my activitieswere transferred to London, I took them away with me.
"In London I chose to live in chambers, and was soon established at No. 7Park Place, St. James's, a more than comfortable and centrally locatedapartment-house where I found pretty much everything in the way ofconvenience that a man situated as I was could reasonably ask for. I had notbeen there more than six months, however, when something happened that madethe ease of apartment life seem somewhat less desirable. That is, my roomswere broken open during my absence, over night on a little canoeing trip toHenley, and about everything valuable in my possession was removed,including the truly regal pepper-pots sent me by his Majesty the King ofSpain, that I had carelessly left standing upon my sideboard.
"Until last week," the General continued, "nor hide nor hair of any of mystolen possessions was every discovered, but last Thursday night I acceptedthe invitation of a gentleman well known in this country as a leader offinance, a veritable Captain of Industry, the soul of honor and one of themost genial hosts imaginable. I sat down at his table at eight o'clock, and,will you believe me, gentlemen, one of the first objects to greet my eyeupon the brilliantly set napery was nothing less than one of my lost pepper-pots. There was no mistaking it. Unique in pattern, it was certain ofidentification anyhow, but what made it the more certain was the cipher'A.R. to C.C.'"
"And of course you claimed it?" asked Dozyphrase.
"Of course I did nothing of the sort," retorted the General. "I trust I amnot so lacking in manners. I merely remarked its beauty and quaintness andmassiveness and general artistry. My host expressed pleasure at myappreciation of its qualities and volunteered the information that it was alittle thing he had picked up in a curio shop on Regent Street, London, lastsummer. He had acquired it in perfect good faith. What its history had beenfrom the time I lost it until then, I am not aware, but there it was, andunder circumstances of such a character that although it was indubitably myproperty, a strong sense of the proprieties prevented me from regaining itspossession."
"Who was your host, General?" asked Tickletoe.
The General laughed. "That's telling," said he. "I don't care to go into anyfurther details, because some of you well-meaning friends of mine mightsuggest to Mr.--ahem--ha--well, never mind his name--that he should returnthe pepper-pot, and I know that that is what he would do if he were familiarwith the facts that I have just narrated."
It was at about this point that the gathering broke up, and, after ourcigars, Holmes and I left the club.
"Come up to my rooms a moment," said Raffles, as we emerged upon the street."I want to show you something."
"All right," said I. "I've nothing in particular to do this afternoon. Thatwas a rather interesting tale of the General's, wasn't it?" I added.
"Very," said Holmes. "I guess it's not an uncommon experience, however, inthese days, for the well-to-do and well-meaning to be in possession ofstolen property. The fact of its turning up again under the General's verynose, so many years later, however, that is unusual. The case will appeareven more so before the day is over if I am right in one of my conjectures."
What Raffles Holmes's conjecture was was soon to be made clear. In a fewminutes we had reached his apartment, and there unlocking a huge iron-boundchest in his bedroom, he produced from it capacious depths another goldpepper-pot. This he handed to me.
"There's the mate!" he observed, quietly.
"By Jove, Raffles--it must be!" I cried, for beyond all question, in thewoof of the design on the base of the pepper-pot was the cipher "A.R. toC.C." "Where the dickens did you get it?"
"That was a wedding-present to my mother," he explained. "That's why I havenever sold it, not even when I've been on the edge of starvation."
"From whom--do you happen to know?" I inquired.
"Yes," he replied. "I do know. It was a wedding-present to the daughter ofRaffles by her father, my grandfather, Raffles himself."
"Great Heavens!" I cried. "Then it was Raffles who--well, you know. ThatLondon flat job?"
"Precisely," said Raffles Holmes. "We've caught the old gentleman red-handed."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" said I. "Doesn't it beat creation how small theworld is."
"It does indeed. I wonder who the chap is who has the other," Rafflesobserved.
"Pretty square of the old General to keep quiet about it," said I.
"Yes," said Holmes. "That's why I'm going to restore this one. I wish Icould give 'em both back. I don't think my old grandfather would have takenthe stuff if he'd known what a dead-game sport the old General was, and Isort of feel myself under an obligation to make amends."
"You can send him the one you've got through the express companies,anonymously," said I.
"No," said Holmes. "The General left them on his sideboard, and on hissideboard he must find them. If we could only find out the name of his hostlast Thursday--"
"I tell you--look in the
_Sunday Gazoo_ supplement," said I. "Theyfrequently publish short paragraphs of the social doings of the week. Youmight get a clew there."
"Good idea," said Holmes. "I happen to have it here, too. There was anarticle in it last Sunday, giving a diagram of Howard Vandergould's newhouse at Nippon's Point, Long Island, which I meant to cut out for futurereference."
Holmes secured the _Gazoo_, and between us, we made a pretty thorough searchof its contents, especially "The Doings of Society" columns, and at last wefound it, as follows:
"A small dinner of thirty was given on Thursday evening last in honor of Mr.and Mrs. Wilbur Rattington, of Boston, by Mrs. Rattington's brother, John D.Bruce, of Bruce, Watkins & Co., at the latter's residence, 74-- FifthAvenue. Among Mr. Bruce's guests were Mr. and Mrs. W. K. Dandervelt, Mr. andMrs. Elisha Scroog, Jr., Major-General Carrington Cox, Mr. and Mrs.Henderson Scovill, and Signor Caruso."
"Old Bruce, eh?" laughed Holmes. "Sans peur et sans reproche. Well, that isinteresting. One of the few honest railroad bankers in the country, a pillarof the church, a leading reformer and--a stolen pepper-pot on his table!Gee!"
"What are you going to do now?" I asked. "Write to Bruce and tell him thefacts?"
Holmes's answer was a glance.
"Oh cream-cakes!" he ejaculated, with profane emphasis.
A week after the incidents just described he walked into my room with asmall package under his arm.
"There's the pair!" he observed, unwrapping the parcel and displaying itscontents--two superb, golden pepper-pots, both inscribed "A.R. to C.C.""Beauties, aren't they?"
"They are, indeed. Did Bruce give it up willingly?" I asked.
"He never said a word," laughed Holmes. "Fact is, he snored all the time Iwas there."
"Snored?" said I.
"Yes--you see, it was at 3.30 this morning," said Holmes, "and I went in theback way. Climbed up to the extension roof, in through Bruce's bedroomwindow, down-stairs to the dining-room, while Bruce slept unconscious of myarrival. The house next to his is vacant, you know, and it was easytravelling."
"You--you--" I began.
"Yes--that's it," said he. "Just a plain vulgar bit of second-storybusiness, and I got it. There were a lot of other good things lying around,"he added, with a gulp, "but--well, I was righting a wrong this time, so Ilet 'em alone, and, barring this, I didn't deprive old Bruce of a bloomingthing, not even a wink of sleep."
"And now what?" I demanded.
"It's me for Cedarhurst--that's where the General lives," said he. "I'll getthere about 11.30 to-night, and as soon as all is quiet, Jenkins, your oldpal, Raffles Holmes, will climb easily up to the piazza, gently slide backthe bolts of the French windows in the General's dining-room, proceedcautiously to the sideboard, and replace thereon these two souvenirs of abrave act by a good old sport, whence they never would have been taken hadmy grandfather known his man."
"You are taking a terrible risk, Raffles," said I, "you can just as easilysend the tings to the General by express, anonymously."
"Jenkins," he replied, "that suggestion does you little credit and appealsneither to the Raffles nor to the Holmes in me. Pusillanimity was a wordwhich neither of my forebears could ever learn to use. It was too long, forone thing, and besides that it was never needed in their business."
And with that he left me.
"Well, General," said I to General Cox, a week later at the club, "heardanything further about your pepper-pots yet?"
"Most singular thing, Jenkins," said he. "The d----d things turned up againone morning last week, and where the devil they came from, I can't imagine.One of them, however, had a piece of paper in it on which was written'Returned with thanks for their use and apologies for having kept them solong.'"
The General opened his wallet and handed me a slip which he took from it.
"There it is. What in thunder do you make out of it?" he asked.
It was in Raffles Holmes's hand-writing.
"Looks to me as though Bruce also had been robbed," I laughed.
"Bruce? Who the devil said anything about Bruce?" demanded the General.
"Why, didn't you tell us he had one of 'em on his table?" said I, reddening.
"Did I?" frowned the General. "Well, if I did, I must be a confounded ass. Ithought I took particular pains not the mention Bruce's name in the matter."
And then he laughed.
"I shall have to be careful when Bruce comes to dine with me not to havethose pepper-pots in evidence," he said. "He might ask embarrassingquestions."
And thus it was that Raffles Holmes atoned for at least one of the offencesof his illustrious grandsire.
THE END
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