‘I can’t promise,’ he said. ‘There’s others besides myself as ‘as got accounts to reckon with you. I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a week—a dear week—to put daylight between yourself and the tecs.’
‘I’ll accept that offer,’ said Marston, quietly.
He saw there was nothing better to be got from Heckett that night. In a week much might be done. In the mean time he knew he should hold Egerton safe. Delay was all he wanted now. Given a week, he might yet surmount every obstacle.
He rose from the chair by Heckett’s side, and prepared to go.
As he did so Heckett beckoned to him.
‘There’s one thing you can do for me,’ he said. ‘I believe as you know what’s become o’ my gal. I ain’t got long to be here now, and I’d like to see my poor Gertie’s gal afore I go. There’s some things o’ her poor mother’s as I’ve kept for many a year as I’d like her to have. If you know where she’s been all these years, maybe you’ll tell her her old grandfather’s dyin’, and he’d die easier if he could see her again, and ask her to forgive him.’
‘You shall see Gertie if I can find her,’ said Marston eagerly.
A new idea had come to him. Gertie might induce the old man to hold his peace for ever. He had almost forgotten that Ruth’s protégée was Heckett’s child.
Gurth and Marston bade the old man ‘Good-night,’ and went out into the deserted street.
‘He’s sinking fast,’ said Gurth. ‘Birnie saw him the other day, and says he can’t live a month. Now I’ve kept my promise—keep yours.’