Rogues and Vagabonds

by George R. Sims

Dr. Birnie sat back in his carriage, as he was being whirled through the London streets, and thought.

He wasn’t quite sure what this new idea of Gurth’s meant, or what move on the board he ought to make in consequence of it. He was a man who never took any active steps if he saw a chance of events shaping themselves to suit his ends without his interference. Once or twice events had played into his hands so well that he was always inclined to give them a fair field.

At present Gurth Egerton was only a gold mine, in which he had dug now and then for an odd nugget or two, but he had always considered that the mine was there, and that no one could very well dig in it without his permission. With Birnie the knowledge of power was almost as great a pleasure as the enjoyment of it, and he was, moreover, endowed with that great gift of patience which enables a man to bide a lifetime waiting to strike home, rather than risk giving a weak blow by striking in a hurry.

Gurth Egerton believed that Birnie had given a false certificate of death in Ralph’s case out of friendship for him, and in his impulsive way he had there and then flung himself completely into Birnie’s hands, leaving him to live rent free, to manage his property, to pay all claims made upon him. Birnie was appointed executor to his will, and was in every way his confidential adviser.

But one thing Gurth had not told Birnie, or anyone else, and that was that Ralph was married to old Heckett’s daughter, and that consequently the child that cost Gertie her life, after the father’s death had cost her her reason, was really the legitimate owner of the wealth which he, Gurth, was now enjoying—that is, provided Ralph’s story was true, and not the brag of a vindictive drunkard.

Gurth consoled himself with the fact that, beyond Ralph’s statement to him, there was no proof of anything of the sort. The marriage certificate which Ralph had boasted of having in his possession had never been found, and Gurth was not likely to go searching registries and making inquiries in order to discover that which at present it was perfectly allowable for him to know nothing about.

From time to time he had heard of Heckett, generally by finding that gentleman’s name figuring against a sum of money which Birnie had paid on his account. He had never seen him since his return, for the same reason that he had never seen any of his old companions. He had shunned them one and all. He had heard, too, from Birnie the story of Gertie’s death and of the little Gertie who had grown up in Little Queer Street among the animals. He was pleased to hear she was a clean, tidy child, and that she seemed happy. Perhaps if he had heard of her being in rags and starving, it might have annoyed his conscience. As it was, he felt that Gertie was very well off; he knew that old Heckett’s dog-fancying and wretched surroundings were only covers for a very different occupation, and that there was no real poverty in the ease at all.

He supposed some day old Heckett would get into trouble or die, and then he would befriend Gertie, getting at her in a roundabout way, through Birnie, to avoid any suspicion of his having any interest in her but a philanthropic one.

Gurth Egerton always kept a mental box of salve handy for a smarting conscience, and, when any of his misdeeds troubled him, he had always a scheme ready which would put everything right without doing himself any harm.

But for his indecision of character, he might long ago have made his position far better than it was, but at the last moment he had generally abandoned his well thought-out scheme and ‘gone away.’