Detective and mystery stories; Fantômas (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
Out of pity for the decent old fellow Gurn slackened his pace. He had
heard the story of the battle of Saint-Privat a dozen times already, but
he was quite willing to let Siegenthal tell it again. The warder,
however, wandered to another point.
"By the way, I heard you were promoted sergeant out in the Transvaal: is
that so?" and as Gurn nodded assent, he went on: "I never rose above the
rank of corporal, but at any rate I have always led an honest life." A
sudden compassion for his prisoner seized the old man, and he laid a
kindly hand on Gurn's shoulder. "Is it really possible that an old
soldier like you, who seem to be such a steady, serious, kind of man,
can have committed such a crime?"
Gurn dropped his eyes and did not reply.
"I suppose there was a woman at the bottom of it?" Siegenthal said
tentatively. "You acted on impulse, in a fit of jealousy, eh?"
"No," Gurn answered with sudden bluntness, "I may as well own up that I
did it in anger, because I wanted money--for the sake of robbery."
"I'm sorry," said the old warder simply. "You must have been desperately
hard up."
"No I wasn't."
Siegenthal stared at his prisoner. The man must be utterly callous to
talk like that, he thought. Then a clock struck and the warder gave a
curt order.
"Time, Gurn! We must go back," and he conducted the unresisting prisoner
up the three flights of stairs that led to the division in which his
cell was. "By the way," he remarked as they went, "I forgot to tell you
that you and I have got to part."
"Oh?" said Gurn. "Am I to be transferred to another prison?"
"No, it's I who am going. Just fancy, I have been appointed head warder
at Poissy; I go on leave to-night, and take up my new post in a week."
Both halted before the door of cell number 127. "In with you," said
Siegenthal, and when Gurn had obeyed he turned to go. Then he wheeled
round again quickly, and put out his hand hurriedly, as if half afraid
of being seen. "Put it there, Gurn," he said; "no doubt you are a
murderer and, as you have confessed yourself, a thief; but I can't
forget that if you had kept straight, you were the sergeant and I should
have had to obey you. I'm sorry for you!" Gurn was touched and murmured
a word of thanks. "That's all right, that's all right," Siegenthal
muttered, not attempting to hide his emotion; "let us hope that
everything will turn out well," and he left Gurn alone in the cell to
his meditations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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