“Werry true, Sir Edud; werry true, indeed.”
“Come to the point. Is it all over?”
Baldy Gammon shook his almost hairless head and appeared a little disturbed.
“Well, not quite, Sir Edud, not quite,” he reluctantly admitted.
“What do you mean, Gammon?” Sir Edward harshly demanded. “What do you mean by not quite? Hasn’t he been disposed of, put out of the way, out of existence?”
“Not yet, Sir Edud.”
“Why not? Hang it, why the delay? I inferred from what Carter told me that it was all over, that the infernal——”
“Now, ’old your ’osses, Sir Edud, ’old your ’osses,” Gammon interrupted, with as much suavity he could command. “It’s as ’ow it cawn’t be ’elped. I’ll tell you just ’ow it is, Sir Edud.”
“Do so, then, and lose no time about it,” Chadwick commanded, frowning more darkly. “I had hoped you brought me better news.”
“It’s precisely what I suspected,” Nick Carter murmured. “I’ll wager my reputation on it.”