Read (1929) The Three Just Men for Free Online Page A

He is the steadier of the two. Gurther has brain-storms; he is on the neurotic side. And that nine-thonged whip of yours, Leon, cannot have added to his mental stability. No, it was Pfeiffer, I’m sure.”
    “I suppose the whip unbalanced him a little,” said Leon. He thought over this aspect as though it were one worth consideration. “Gurther is a sort of Jekyll and Hyde, except that there is no virtue to him at all. It is difficult to believe, seeing him dropping languidly into his seat at the opera, that this exquisite young man in his private moments would not change his linen more often than once a month, and would shudder at the sound of a running bath-tap! That almost sounds as though he were a morphia fiend. I remember a case in ‘99…but I am interrupting you?”
    “What precautions shall you take, Leon?” asked George Manfred.
    “Against the snake?” Leon shrugged his shoulders. “The old military precaution against Zeppelin raids; the precaution the farmer takes against a plague of wasps. You cannot kneel on the chest of the vespa vulgaris and extract his sting with an anaesthetic. You destroy his nest—you bomb his hangar. Personally, I have never feared dissolution in any form, but I have a childish objection to being bitten by a snake.”
    Poiccart’s saturnine face creased for a moment in a smile. “You’ve no objection to stealing my theories,” he said drily, and the other doubled up in silent laughter.
    Manfred was pacing the little room, his hands behind him, a thick Egyptian cigarette between his lips.
    “There’s a train leaves Paddington for Gloucester at ten forty-five,” he said. “Will you telegraph to Miss Goddard, Heavytree Farm, and ask her to meet the train with a cab? After that I shall want two men to patrol the vicinity of the farm day and night.”
    Poiccart pulled open a drawer of the desk, took out a small book and ran his finger down the index.
    “I can get this service in Gloucester,” he said. “Gordon, Williams, Thompson and Elfred—they’re reliable people and have worked for us before.”
    Manfred nodded.
    “Send them the usual instructions by letter. I wonder who will be in charge of this Barberton case? If it’s Meadows, I can work with him. On the other hand, if it’s Arbuthnot, we shall have to get our information by subterranean methods.”
    “Call Elver,” suggested Leon, and George pulled the telephone towards him.
    It was some time before he could get into touch with Dr. Elver, and then he learnt, to his relief, that the redoubtable Inspector Meadows had complete charge.
    “He’s coming up to see you,” said Elver. “As a matter of fact, the chief was here when I arrived at the Yard, and he particularly asked Meadows to consult with you. There’s going to be an awful kick at the Home Secretary’s office about this murder. We had practically assured the Home Office that there would be no repetition of the mysterious deaths and that the snake had gone dead for good.”
    Manfred asked a few questions and then hung up.
    “They are worried about the public—you never know what masses will do in given circumstances. But you can gamble that the English mass does the same thing—Governments hate intelligent crowds. This may cost the Home Secretary his job, poor soul! And he’s doing his best.”
    A strident shout in the street made him turn his head with a smile.
    “The late editions have got it—naturally. It might have been committed on their doorstep.”
    “But why?” asked Poiccart “What was Barberton’s offence?”
    “His first offence,” said Leon promptly, without waiting for Manfred to reply, “was to go in search of Miss Mirabelle Leicester. His second and greatest was to consult with us. He was a dead man when he left the house.”
    The faint sound of a bell ringing sent Poiccart down to the hall to admit an unobtrusive, middle-aged man, who might have been anything but what he was: one of the cleverest trackers of criminals