The Doings of Raffles Haw by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (classic fiction txt) 📖

to reduce to protyle all the stock of gold which he had accumulated. The treasure-room which had so dazzled Robert consisted now of merely four bare walls, while the gleaming dust upon the floor proclaimed the fate of that magnificent collection of gems which had alone amounted to a royal fortune. Of all the machinery no single piece remained intact, and even the glass table was shattered into three pieces. Strenuously earnest must have been the work which Raffles Haw had done that day.

And suddenly Robert thought of the secret which had been treasured in the casket within the iron-clamped box. It was to tell him the one last essential link which would make his knowledge of the process complete. Was it still there? Thrilling all over, he opened the great chest, and drew out the ivory box. It was locked, but the key was in it. He turned it and threw open the lid. There was a white slip of paper with his own name written upon it. With trembling fingers he unfolded it. Was he the heir to the riches of El Dorado, or was he destined to be a poor struggling artist? The note was dated that very evening, and ran in this way:

"MY DEAR ROBERT,--My secret shall never be used again. I cannot
tell you how I thank Heaven that I did not entirely confide it to
you, for I should have been handing over an inheritance of misery
both to yourself and others. For myself I have hardly had a happy
moment since I discovered it. This I could have borne had I been
able to feel that I was doing good, but, alas! the only effect of my
attempts has been to turn workers into idlers, contented men into
greedy parasites, and, worst of all, true, pure women into
deceivers and hypocrites. If this is the effect of my interference
on a small scale, I cannot hope for anything better were I to carry
out the plans which we have so often discussed. The schemes of my
life have all turned to nothing. For myself, you shall never see me
again. I shall go back to the student life from which I emerged.
There, at least, if I can do little good, I can do no harm. It is
my wish that such valuables as remain in the Hall should be sold,
and the proceeds divided amidst all the charities of Birmingham.
I shall leave tonight if I am well enough, but I have been much
troubled all day by a stabbing pain in my side. It is as if wealth
were as bad for health as it is for peace of mind. Good-bye,
Robert, and may you never have as sad a heart as I have to-night.
Yours very truly,
RAFFLES HAW."

"Was it suicide, sir? Was it suicide?" broke in the policeman as Robert put the note in his pocket.

"No," he answered; "I think it was a broken heart."

And so the wonders of the New Hall were all dismantled, the carvings and the gold, the books and the pictures, and many a struggling man or woman who had heard nothing of Raffles Haw during his life had cause to bless him after his death. The house has been bought by a company now, who have turned it into a hydropathic establishment, and of all the folk who frequent it in search of health or of pleasure there are few who know the strange story which is connected with it.

The blight which Haw's wealth cast around it seemed to last even after his death. Old McIntyre still raves in the County Lunatic Asylum, and treasures up old scraps of wood and metal under the impression that they are all ingots of gold. Robert McIntyre is a moody and irritable man, for ever pursuing a quest which will always evade him. His art is forgotten, and he spends his whole small income upon chemical and electrical appliances, with which he vainly seeks to rediscover that one hidden link. His sister keeps house for him, a silent and brooding woman, still queenly and beautiful, but of a bitter, dissatisfied mind. Of late, however, she has devoted herself to charity, and has been of so much help to Mr. Spurling's new curate that it is thought that he may be tempted to secure her assistance for ever. So runs the gossip of the village, and in small places such gossip is seldom wrong. As to Hector Spurling, he is still in her Majesty's service, and seems inclined to abide by his father's wise advice, that he should not think of marrying until he was a Commander. It is possible that of all who were brought within the spell of Raffles Haw he was the only one who had occasion to bless it.
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Publication Date: 05-07-2010

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