The Washington herald., 1914-04-12
Copyright. ML)
MY brother Ralph, who now lived
lF1 with me on the edge of Ham

the eyes, due to long exposure to tht
glare out there, and necessitating tn,
use of clouded spectacles in the oper
air. He had not the rich complexion
of the typical colonist, being indeed pc
culiarly pale, but it appeared that he
had been confined to his berth for the
greater part of the voyage, while his
prematurely gray hair was sufficient
proof that the rigors of bush life had al
last undermined an originally tough con-
stitution. Our landlady had fallen in
love with my brother at first sight, and
she never could do too much for him.
1t was owing to our landlady that l took
to calling him Ralph, for the first time
in our lives, on her beginning to speak
of and to him as "Mr Rafies."
This won't do" said he to me ITS
a name that sticks"
1T must be my fault She must have
heard it from me-" said. self-reproach-
fully.
"You must tell her it's the short for
Ralph"
But it's longer"
ITS the short" said he; "and you've
got to tell her so"
Henceforth l heard as much of 'Mr
Ralph" his likes and his dislikes, what
he would fancy and what he would not,
and oh, what dear gentleman he was,
that l often remembered to say, Ralph,
old chap" myself.
1t was an ideal cottage, as said when
found it, and in it our delicate man
became rapidly robust. Not that the
air was also ideal, for, when it was not
raining, we had the same faithful mist
from November to March. But it was
something to Ralph to get any air at all,
other than night air, and the bicycle did
the rest.
That was the winter when there were
so many burglaries in the Thames Val
ley from Richmond upward. 1t was
said that the thieves used bicycles IN
every case, but what is not said? They
were sometimes on foot to my knowl-
edge, and we took great interest in the
series, or rather sequence of successful
crimes. Rafies would often get his de-
voted old lady to read him the latest
local accounts, while was busy with my
writing (much 1 wrote) in my own
room.
We even rode out by night ourselves,
to see if we could not get on the tracks
of the thieves, and never did we fail to
find not coffee on the hob for our re-
turn. We had indeed fallen upon our
feet. Also, the misty nights might have
been made for the thieves. But their
success was not so consistent, and never
so enormous, as peopl: said, especially
the sufferers, who lost more valuables
than they had ever been known to pos
sess. Failure was often the caitiffs' por-
ton, and disaster once; owing, ironically
enough, to that very mist which should
have served them. But l am going to
tell the story with some particularly,
and perhaps some gusto, you will see
why who read.
The right house stood on high ground
near the river, with quite drive Tin at
one gate and out at the other) sweeping
past the steps. Between the two gates
was a half moon of shrubs. to the left
of the steps a conservatory, and to their
right the walk leading to the trades |
mems entrance and the back premises !
here also was the pantry window, of
which more anon. The right house
was the residence of an opulent stock |
broker who wore heavy watchchain
and seemed fair game. The house was
one of row, though goodly row. And
we did not choose the night upon which
the whole row was likely to be kept
awake. /
The night that we did choose was as
misty as even the Thames Valley is ca
pable of making them. Rafies smeared
vaseline upon the plated parts of his
wheel before starting, and our dear land
lady cosseted us both and prayed we
might see nothing of the nasty burglars,
not denying that the reward would be
very handy to them that got it, to say
nothing of the honor and glory. We
had promised her liberal perquisite in
the event of our success, but she must
not give other cyclists our idea by men,
tioning it to a soul. 1t was about mid
night when we cycled through Kingston
TO Surbiton, having trundled our ma
chimes across Ham Fields, and so over
Teddington Bridge.
l often wonder why the pantry win
dow is the vulnerable point of nine
houses out of ten. This house of ours
was almost the tenth, for the window in
question had bars of sorts, but not the
right sort. Barred windows are usually
devoid of other fasteners worthy the
name; this one was no exception to that
foolish rule, and a push with the pen
knife did its business. l should not
have omitted to say that we had left our u