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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Oh, God save me!" but still the warders dragged him towards the door. By an herculean effort he swayed them back with him into the middle of the room. "I am not Gurn, I tell you," he shouted. "I am Valgrand, Valgrand the actor. Everybody in the world knows me. You know it too, but Search me, I tell you," and he made a sign with his head towards his left side.
Gurn was there, sitting on the foot of his bed with his legs crossed and a note-book on his knees, making notes with the quietest attention: he scarcely appeared to notice Nibet's violent invasion. "Oh! So you are there?" stammered the astonished warder. Gurn raised his head and looked at the warder with a cryptic gaze. "Yes, I'm here."
If it turns out, as I expect, that the two fragments of map, when placed together, form a single and complete whole, I shall conclude logically that X, who was the owner of fragment number 1, is the same as the owner of fragment number 2, to wit, Gurn." "How are you going to find out?" enquired M. Fuselier. "It is in order to find it out that we have sent for Dollon," Juve replied.
In her distress she was really superbly beautiful; but Valgrand knew too much about women of every temperament, neurotic, hysterical, and many another kind, not to suppose that here he was merely taking part in a sentimental comedy. He made a rough gesture and laid his hand on Lady Beltham's arm. "Do you not know me?" he said harshly. "I am Gurn!
"That is to say M. Gurn went away a week after you last cleaned the place up?" "Yes, sir." Juve changed the subject, and pointed to the corpse. "Tell me, madame, did you know that person?" The concierge fought down her nervousness and for the first time looked at the unfortunate victim with a steady gaze. "I have never seen him before," she said, with a little shudder.
About midnight the rumour had run round the town; it was certain, definite this time; the official steps had been taken, and the guillotine was going to raise her blood-stained arms towards the sky; at earliest dawn, Gurn, the man who had murdered Lord Beltham, was to undergo the supreme punishment, and expiate his murder with his life.
But he drew back; for the man was awake and dressed, sitting ready on his bed with mad, haggard eyes. "Gurn," said the Public Prosecutor. "Be brave! Your appeal has been rejected!" The others, standing behind him, were all silent, and the words of the Public Prosecutor fell like a knell.
On the whole, it was much better that things should be as they were, but the warder was wondering how the great lady, who paid so mighty well, might take the matter. She most certainly had not promised so large a sum of money, nor paid the good round sum of ten thousand francs down in advance, merely in order that Gurn might have a little walk upon the tiles.
"I dare say," the warder answered uneasily; "but you must be guided by reason; time is going on, and things arrange themselves." "They do when you help them," Gurn said peremptorily; "and you and I are going to help them." "That remains to be seen," said the warder. "Of course, everything has got to be paid for," Gurn went on.
"You know that I am yours, wherever you may go. Shall it be to-morrow? We can meet you know where and arrange everything for your flight." "My flight?" said Gurn, with reproachful emphasis on the pronoun. "For our flight," she replied, and Gurn smiled again. "Then that is settled," he said. "I have seen you, and I am happy! Good-bye."
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