Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
The woman left the door, which she had been holding just ajar, and went to the back of her lodge; she looked through the pigeon-holes where she kept the tenants' letters ready sorted, and picked out a soiled printed circular addressed to M. Gurn. She was busy putting on her spectacles when the stranger drew near and from over her shoulder got a glimpse of the name for which she was looking.
We had a chat there on the pavement, for the street was empty, and she shoved some bank-notes in my hand not just one or two, but a great bunch , and she told me that she was interested in me in you , and that if things turned out as she wished there were plenty more bank-notes where those came from." While the warder was talking Gurn watched him carefully.
"Read that, Jean, read that! Surely I am mistaken." The door-keeper peered over Charlot's shoulder at the indicated passage. "I don't see anything in that; it's that Gurn affair again. Yes, he is to be executed at daybreak on the eighteenth." "But that is this morning presently," Charlot exclaimed.
"It was a good idea of yours, M. Nibet, to insist on my getting my dinner sent in from outside." Nibet winked; he appreciated his prisoner's tact; obviously he was not one to make untimely allusions to the warder's breach of discipline in conveying money to him so simply, but so very irregularly. As he ate Gurn chatted with Nibet. "I suppose it is you who will get Siegenthal's place?"
Valgrand began to speak as he did upon the stage, restraining his effects at first and controlling his voice of set purpose to give full effect to it later on, modulating it cleverly. "At your summons, madame, the prisoner Gurn has burst his bonds, broken through the door of his cell, and scaled his prison walls, triumphing over every obstacle with the single object of coming to your feet.
Gurn had no time to get back to his former hiding-place; all he could do was to sink into the one arm-chair that was in the room, and conceal his features as well as he could by turning down the brim of the hat and turning up the collar of the cloak which the actor had forgotten.
Just then a deep voice called up the staircase: "Concierge: M. Gurn: have you any one of that name in the house?" "Come up to the fifth floor," the concierge called back to the man. "I am in his rooms now," and she went back into the flat. "Here's somebody else for M. Gurn," she exclaimed. "Does he have many visitors?" the stranger enquired. "Hardly any, sir: that's why I'm so surprised."
When at length he got rid of Bouzille and his exasperating garrulity, the green man resumed his conversation with his friend with the guitar. "It's rather odd that he hasn't a trace of accent," the latter remarked. "Oh, it's nothing for a fellow like Gurn to speak French like a Frenchman," said the green man in a low tone; then he stopped nervously.
Presently, however, she recovered consciousness unaided and uttered a faint sigh. Her lover hurried to her. "Oh, Gurn," she murmured, laying her white hand on the wretch's neck: "it's you, dear! Come close to me, and hold me in your arms! It was too much for me! I almost broke down and told everything! I could have borne no more. Oh, what an appalling time!"
Deibler and the Public Prosecutor, and people generally, think that it is merely Gurn who is going to be decapitated now. I may have secured this man's condemnation, but none the less he has beaten me and deprived me of the satisfaction of having brought him, Fantômas, to the scaffold! I have only consigned Gurn to the scaffold, and that is a defeat!" The detective stopped.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking