Mr. Justice Raffles

Mr. Justice Raffles, by E. W.
Hornung

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Title: Mr. Justice Raffles
Author: E. W. Hornung

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MR. JUSTICE RAFFLES
BY E.W. HORNUNG
1909

CONTENTS
Chapter
I.
An Inaugural Banquet
II. "His Own Familiar Friend"
III. Council of War
IV. "Our Mr. Shylock"

V. Thin Air
VI. Camilla Belsize
VII. In Which We Fail to Score
VIII. The State of the Case
IX. A Triple Alliance
X. "My Raffles Right or Wrong"
XI. A Dash in the Dark
XII. A Midsummer Night's Dream
XIII. Knocked Out
XIV. Corpus Delicti
XV. Trial by Raffles
XVI. Watch and Ward
XVII. A Secret Service
XVIII. The Death of a Sinner
XIX. Apologia

Mr. Justice Raffles
CHAPTER I
An Inaugural Banquet
Raffles had vanished from the face of the town, and even I had no
conception of his whereabouts until he cabled to me to meet the 7.31 at

Charing Cross next night. That was on the Tuesday before the 'Varsity
match, or a full fortnight after his mysterious disappearance. The
telegram was from Carlsbad, of all places for Raffles of all men! Of
course there was only one thing that could possibly have taken so rare a
specimen of physical fitness to any such pernicious spot. But to my
horror he emerged from the train, on the Wednesday evening, a
cadaverous caricature of the splendid person I had gone to meet.
"Not a word, my dear Bunny, till I have bitten British beef!" said he, in
tones as hollow as his cheeks. "No, I'm not going to stop to clear my
baggage now. You can do that for me to-morrow, Bunny, like a dear
good pal."
"Any time you like," said I, giving him my arm. "But where shall we
dine? Kellner's? Neapolo's? The Carlton or the Club?"
But Raffles shook his head at one and all.
"I don't want to dine at all," he said. "I know what I want!"
And he led the way from the station, stopping once to gloat over the
sunset across Trafalgar Square, and again to inhale the tarry scent of the
warm wood-paving, which was perfume to his nostrils as the din of its
traffic was music to his ears, before we came to one of those political
palaces which permit themselves to be included in the list of ordinary
clubs. Raffles, to my surprise, walked in as though the marble hall
belonged to him, and as straight as might be to the grill-room where
white-capped cooks were making things hiss upon a silver grill. He did
not consult me as to what we were to have. He had made up his mind
about that in the train. But he chose the fillet steaks himself, he insisted
on seeing the kidneys, and had a word to say about the fried potatoes,
and the Welsh rarebit that was to follow. And all this was as
uncharacteristic of the normal Raffles (who was least fastidious at the
table) as the sigh with which he dropped into the chair opposite mine,
and crossed his arms upon the cloth.
"I didn't know you were a member of this place," said I, feeling really
rather shocked at the discovery, but also that it was a safer subject for

me to open than that of his late mysterious movements.
"There are a good many things you don't know about me, Bunny," said
he wearily. "Did you know I was in Carlsbad, for instance?"
"Of course I didn't."
"Yet you remember the last time we sat down