Oberzohn’s very gentleness was a menace. What did it portend? Until that evening neither Gurther nor his dead companion had been taken into the confidence of the two men who directed their activities. He knew there were certain papers to be recovered; he knew there were men to be killed; but what value were the papers, or why death should be directed to this unfortunate or that, he neither knew nor cared. His duty had been to obey, and he had served a liberal paymaster well and loyally. That girl in the underground room? Gurther had many natural explanations for her imprisonment. And yet none of them fitted the conditions. His cogitations were wasted time. That night, for the first time, the doctor took him into his confidence. He had finished dressing and was on his way to his kitchen when the doctor stood at the doorway and called him in. “Sit down, Gurther.” He was almost kind. “You will have a cigar? These are excellent.” He threw a long, thin, black cheroot, and Gurther caught it between his teeth and seemed absurdly pleased with his trick. “The time has come when you must know something, Gurther,” said the doctor. He took a fellow to the weed the man was smoking, and puffed huge clouds of rank smoke into the room. “I have for a friend—who? Heir Newton?” He shrugged his shoulders. “He is a very charming man, but he has no brains. He is the kind of man, Gurther, who would live in comfort, take all we gave him by our cleverness and industry, and never say thank you! And in trouble what will he do, Gurther? He will go to the police—yes, my dear friend, he will go to the police!” He nodded. Gurther had heard the same story that night when he had crept soft-footed to the door and had heard the doctor discuss certain matters with the late Mr. Pfeiffer. “He would, without a wink of his eyelash, without a snap of his hand, send you and me to death, and would read about our execution with a smile, and then go forth and eat his plum-pudding and roast beef! That is our friend Heir Newton! You have seen this with your own eyes?” “_Ja, Herr Doktor!_” exclaimed the obedient Gurther. “He is a danger for many reasons,” Oberzohn proceeded deliberately. “Because of these three men who have so infamously set themselves out to ruin me, who burnt down my house, and who whipped you, Gurther—they tied you up to a post and whipped you with a whip of nine tails. You have not forgotten, Gurther?” “_Nein, Herr Doktor._” Indeed, Gurther had not forgotten, though the vacant smirk on his face might suggest that he had a pleasant memory of the happening.