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Gurther Returns · The Three Just Men

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  Chapter twenty five of The Three Just Men by Edgar Wallace. This LibriVox recording
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  is in the public domain. Girther returns. The train was going at thirty
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  miles an hour when Girthr dropped on to a ridge of sand by the side
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  of the track, and in the next second he was sliding forward on his
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  face. Fortunately for him, the veil, though torn, kept his eyes
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  free. Stumbling to his feet, he looked round The level crossing gate should
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  be somewhere here. He had intended jumping the train at this point, and
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  Oberton had made arrangements accordingly. A signalman perched high above the track, saw
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  the figure and challenged, I've lost my way, said Girther. Where is
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  a level crossing a hundred yards farther on? Keep clear of those medals.
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  The Eastbourne Express is coming behind. If Girthther had had his way, he
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  would have stopped long enough to remove a rail for the sheer joy of watching
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  a few hundred of the hated people plunge to destruction. But he guessed that
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  the car was waiting, went sideways through the safety gates into a road which
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  was fairly populous. There were people about who turned their heads and looked in
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  amazement at the bedraggled woman in black, but he had gone beyond worrying about
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  his appearance. He saw the car with the little green light which Oberjon invariably
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  used to mark his machines from others, plimbing into the cab as it was
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  sat down to recover his breath. The driver, he knew was one of
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  the three men employed by Aberjon, one of whom mister Washington had seen that
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  morning. The journey back to town was a long one, though the machine
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  for a public vehicle was faster than most. Girthur welcomed the ride. Once
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  more he had failed, and he reasoned that his last failure was the most
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  serious of all. The question of Aberjean's displeasure did not really arise. He
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  had traveled far beyond the point when the sweet's disapproval meant very much to him.
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  But there might be a consequence more serious than any He knew well with
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  what instructions Fiffer had been primed on the night of the attack at Rathhouse.
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  Only girth had been quicker, and his snake had bitten first. Doctor Aberjon
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  had no allusions as to what had happened, and if he had tactfully refrained
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  from making reference to the matter. He had his purpose and his reasons,
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  and this night journey with Elijah Washington was one of them. There was no
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  excuse, he had none to offer. His hand wandered beneath the dress to
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  the long knife that was strapped to his side, and the touch of the
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  worn handle was very reassuring. For the time being, he was safe until
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  another man was found to take Fifer's place. Aberjon was working single handed and
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  could not afford to dispense with the services of this the last of his assassins.
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  It was past eleven when he dismissed the taxi at the end of the
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  long lane, and following the only safe path, came to the unpainted door
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  that gave admission to Aberjon's property, and the first words of his master told
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  him that there was no necessity for explanation. So you did not get him,
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  Girther, no, her doctor, I should not have sent you.
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  Aberzon's voice was extraordinarily mild in all the circumstances. That man you cannot kill
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  with the snake. I have learned since you went that he was bitten at
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  the blind Man's house, yet lives. That is extraordinary. I would give
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  a lot of money to test his blood. You tried the knife, yaw
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  her doctor. He lifted his veil, stripped off head and wig in one
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  motion. The ruged and powdered face was bruised from under. The brown wig
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  was a trickle of dried blood. Good you have done as well as you
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  could. Go to your room, Girtherr March Girtha went upstairs and for a
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  quarter of an hour was staring at his grinning face in the glass. As
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  with cream and soiled towel. He removed his make up. Oberzon's very gentleness
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  was a menace? What did it portend? Until that evening, neither Girthr
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  nor or his dead companion had been taken into the confidence of the two men
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  who directed their activities. He knew there were certain papers to be recovered,
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  He knew that there were men to be killed. But what value were the
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  papers, or why death should be directed to this unfortunate or that? He
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  neither knew nor cared. His duty had been to obey, and he had
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  served a liberal paymaster well and loyally. That girl in the underground room girth
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  had many natural explanations for her imprisonment, and yet none of them fitted the
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  conditions. His cogitations were wasted time. That night, for the first time,
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  the doctor took him into his confidence. He had finished dressing and was
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  on his way to his kitchen when the doctor stood at the doorway and called
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  him in. Sit down, Girth, He was almost kind. You will
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  have a cigar, These are excellent. He threw a long, thin black
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  cherot, and Girther caught it between his teeth and seemed absurdly pleased with his
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  trick. The time was com when you must know something, Gertherr, said
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  the doctor. He took a fellow to the weed. The man was smoking
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  and puffed huge clouds of rank smoke into the room. I have for a
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  friend who her Newton. He shrugged his shoulders. He is a very charming
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  man, but he has no brains. He is the kind of man,
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  Girthura, who would live in comfort, take all we gave him by our
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  cleverness and industry, and never say thank you. And in trouble, what
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  will he do, Girther, He will go to the police. Yes,
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  my dear friend, he will go to the police. He nodded. Girth
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  had heard the same story that night when he had crept soft footed to the
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  door and had heard the doctor discuss certain matters with the late mister Pfeiffer,
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  he would, without a wink of his eyelash, without a snap of his
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  hand, send you and me to death, and we'd read about our execution
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  with a smile, and then go forth and eat his plum pudding in roast
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  beef. That is our friend, Hern Newton. You have seen this with
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  your your own eyes. Yah here, doctor, exclaimed the obedient girther.
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  He is a danger for many reasons. Auberjon proceeded deliberately, because of these
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  three men who was so infamously set themselves out to ruin me, who burnt
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  down my house, who whipped you, Girther, They tied you up to
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  a post and whipped you with a whip of nine tails. You have not
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  forgotten, girth nine here doctor. Indeed, Girther had not forgotten, though
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  the vacant smirk on his face might suggest that he had a pleasant memory of
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  the happening. A fool in an organization continued the doctor oracularly is like a
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  bad plate on a ship or a weak link in a chain. Let it
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  snap, and what happens you and I die, my dear girther. We
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  go up before a stupid man in a white wig and a red cloak,
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  and he hands us to another man who puts a rope around our necks drops
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  us through a hole in the ground, all because we have a stupid man
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  like her Montacue Newton to deal with. Yeah, doctor, said Gerthuus.
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  His master stopped. He felt that this comment was required of him. Now
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  I will tell you the whole truth. The doctor carefully knocked off the ash
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  of his cigar into the saucer of his cup. There is a fortune for
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  you and me, and this girl that we have in the quiet place can
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  give it to us. I can marry her, or I can wipe her
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  out. So if I marry her, it would be better, I think,
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  And this I have arranged. And then, in his own way,
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  he told the story of the Hill of Gold, concealing nothing, reserving nothing,
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  all that he knew, all that Villa had told him for three four
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  days. Now she must be here at the end of that time. Nothing
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  matters the letter to Lisbon, of what value is it? I was foolish
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  when I tried to stop it. She has made no nominee she has no
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  heirs, she has known nothing of her fortune, and therefore is in no
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  position to claim the renewal of the concession her doctor, you will graciously permit
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  me to speak, The doctor nodded. Does the Newton know this? The
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  Newton knows all, this, said the doctor. Will you graciously permit me
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  to speak? Again? Here? Doctor, what was this letter I was
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  to have taken had I not been overcome by misfortune? Auberjon examined the ceiling.
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  I have thought this matter from every angle, he said, and I
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  have decided thus he was a letter written by Gonzalez to the Secretary or the
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  Minister of the Colonies, asking that the renewal of the concession should be postponed.
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  The telegram from my friend at the Colonial Office in Lisbon was to this
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  effect. He fixed his glasses, fumbled in his waistcoat, and took out
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  the three page telegram. I will read it to you in your own language.
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  Application has been received from Leon Gonzalez, asking his Excellency to receive a
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  very special letter which arrives in two days. The telegram does not state the
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  contents of the letter, but the Minute has given orders for the messenger to
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  be received the present Minister is not favorable to concessions granted to England or englishmen.
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  He folded the paper, which means that there will be no postponement,
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  my dear Girther, and this enormous fortune will be ours. Girther considered this
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  pointing for a moment, forgot to smile and looked what he was in consequence,
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  a hungry discontent and wolf of a man. Her doctor. Graciously,
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  permit me to ask you a question, ask said Overjohn, magnanimously. What
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  share does her Newton get? And if you so graciously honored me with a
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  portion of your so justly deserved gains, to what extent would be that chair?
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  The other considered this, puffing away into the room was a mist of
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  smoke. Ten thousand English pounds, he said, at last, gracious and
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  learn, a doctor, that is a very small proportion of many millions,
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  said Girther gently. Newton will receive one half, said the doctor, his
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  face working nervously. If he is alive, if misfortune came to him,
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  that share would be yours. Girtha my brave fellow, and with so much
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  money a man would not be hunted. The rich and the noble would fawn
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  upon him, he would have his lovely yawn and steam about the summer seas.
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  Everlastingly, huh, Gertha rose and clicked his heels. Do you desire
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  me again this evening? No, No, girthur. The old man shook
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  his head and pray, remember that there was another day tomorrow, and yet
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  another day after. We shall wait and hear what our friend has to say.
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  Good Night, Girthur, good night her doctor. The doctor looked at
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  the door for a long time after his man had gone, and took up
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  his book. He was deep in the chapter, which was headed in the
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  German tongue, the subconscious activity of the human intellect in relation to the esoteric
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  emotions. To doctor Objean, this was more thrilling than the most exciting novel.
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  End of chapter twenty five,