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Updated: May 10, 2025
And as they brought the desperately wounded man down to the surgeon and to life, the old governor raised his hat and said: "The Travis blood the Irish Gray when it's wrong it is hell when it's right it is heaven." But the old preacher smiled as he helped carry him tenderly down and said: "He is right, forever right, now, Gov'nor. God has made him so. See that smile on his lips!
"I knew it, gov'nor knew it the minute I heard Jurgens was a cop. Did you make 'em give you my beat?" He seemed genuinely pleased as Gordon nodded, and then dropped it, to point to Randolph. "Guess what, gov'nor. The Legals bought Randy's Crusader. Traded him an old job press and a bag of scratch for his reputation." "You'll be late, Izzy," Randolph said quietly.
"Give 'em hell, gov'nor," the kid's voice yelled, and the little figure was beside him, a shower of blades seeming to leap from his hand in the glare of his bare torch. Shields caught them frantically, and then the kid was in with a heavy club he'd torn from someone's hand. Gordon had no time to consider his sudden traitor-ally.
"S'help me, Gov'nor, the wind's goin' through my teeth like I was a mouth organ and I'm hollow enough for a flute!" It is strange how, in moments of stress and trial, even in times of tragedy, the most commonplace thoughts will intrude themselves and the mind separate itself from the immediate events.
Hendrix had been wounded lightly, and was out when Gordon and Izzy reported. But the next day, they were switched to a new beat where trouble had been thickest and given twelve-hour duty without special overtime. Izzy considered it slowly and shook his head. "That does it, gov'nor. It ain't honest, treating us this way.
What you want is a change; and what I want is the river, so, if there is no message from The Yard " "There isn't, sir." "Good. Then 'phone through to Mr. Narkom and tell him that you and I are going for a few days up the river as far as Henley, and that we are going to break it on Wednesday to go to the Derby." "Gov'nor!
Gordon began organizing his own squad. Izzy slipped over as he began to get them organized. "If we hold past midnight, we'll be set, gov'nor," he said. "They go crazy for a while, but give 'em a few hours and they stop most of it. I figure you know where all the scratch went?" "Sure guns from Earth! The damned fools!" "Yeah. But not fools. Just bloody well-informed, gov'nor.
"My eye, gov'nor," said he, returning radiant with his treasure to Reginald, and thrusting it into his hand; "'ere, lay 'old. 'Ere's a slice o' luck. Somethink like that there daily bread you was a-tellin' me of t'other day. No fear, I ain't forgot it. Now, I say sassages. What do you say?"
Livingstone knows a heap more 'bout wicked ways an' doin's than me an' Miss Yorke does, Gov'nor," he said to uncle Rutherford, altogether innocent of any uncomplimentary inference which might be drawn, "an' so ye'd know the best ways out of 'em.
That gave the fugitives five minutes. Then pushing breathlessly into the bar, he had to make it clear to the barmaid what the matter was, and the 'gov'nor' being out, they spent some more precious time wondering 'what EVER' was to be done! in which the two customers returning from outside joined with animation. There were also moral remarks and other irrelevant contributions.
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