Raffles Holmes & Company

Raffles Holmes & Company

John Kendrick Bangs

Language: English

Pages: 106

ISBN: 1587156318

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The son of Sherlock Holmes (who also happens to also be the grandson of thief A. J. Raffles) decides to have his own adventures published. Upon selecting the man who will chronicle his life (much as Watson did for Holmes), we get the tale Raffles' astonishing origin, followed by an exciting series of adventures involving burglary, extortion, armed robbery, and more-with Raffles treading the fine line (and often slipping off) between good and evil, as the conflicting heritage of his sire and grandsire battle for dominance!

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need all of your help,” he cried. “What can I do?” I asked. “You know you have only to command me,” “Don’t leave me this night for a minute,” he groaned. “If you do, I am lost. The Raffles in me is rampant when I look at those jewels and think of what they will mean if I keep them. An independent fortune forever. All I have to do is to get aboard a ship and go to Japan and live in comfort the rest of my days with this wealth in my possession, and all the instincts of honesty that I possess,

than I thought, but we’re in it, and I shall stay to the end.” “What the devil is the adventure, anyhow?” I demanded impatiently. “You vowed you wouldn’t touch the rope.” “I hope not to,” was his response. “It is up to you to see that I don’t. My plan does not involve my laying hands upon even the shadow of it.” So we stayed on at the Garrymore, and a worse week I never had anywhere. With every glimpse of that infernal jewel 49 the Raffles in Holmes became harder and harder to control. In the

the unfortunate Billington. “God! I never thought of that.” “Of course you didn’t think of that,” said Holmes. “That’s why I’m telling you about it now. You don’t dispute my facts, do you?” “No, I—” Rand began. “Of course not,” said Holmes. “You might as well dispute the existence of the Flatiron Building. If you don’t want tomorrow’s papers to be full of this thing, you’ll hand that package over to me.” “But,” protested Rand, “I’m only taking them up to—to a—er—to a broker.” Here he gathered

bellboy returned and delivered the key of Sir Henry Darlington’s apartment into the hands of Raffles Holmes. Ten minutes later we sat in room 407—I in a blue funk from sheer nervousness, Raffles Holmes as imperturbable as the rock of Gibraltar. It was the usual style of hotel room, with bath, pictures, telephone, what-nots, wardrobes, and center-table. The last proved to be the main point of interest upon our arrival. It was littered up with papers of one sort and another: letters, bills

imitation of how it feels to be garroted, while the other two were rifling his pockets. “This was too much for me. I was in pretty fit physical condition at that time and felt myself to be quite the equal in a good old fist fight of any dozen ordinary Castilians, so I plunged into the fray, heart and soul, not for an instant dreaming, however, what was the quality of the person to whose assistance I had come. My first step was to bowl over the garroter. Expecting no interference in his nefarious

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