Dead Men's Money, J. S. Fletcher [100 books to read .txt] 📗

"There's nothing to do but what you say?" I asked.

"Nothing--not a thing!" he affirmed.

"And the time?" I said. "And the word--for surety?"

"Eleven o'clock is the time," he answered. "Eleven--an hour before midnight. And as for the word--get you to the place and wait about a bit, and if you see nobody there, say out loud, 'From James Gilverthwaite as is sick and can't come himself'; and when the man appears, as he will, say--aye!--say 'Panama,' my lad, and he'll understand in a jiffy!"

"Eleven o'clock--Panama," said I. "And--the message?"

"Aye!" he answered, "the message. Just this, then: 'James Gilverthwaite is laid by for a day or two, and you'll bide quiet in the place you know of till you hear from him.' That's all. And--how will you get out there, now?--it's a goodish way."

"I have a bicycle," I answered, and at his question a thought struck me. "How did you intend to get out the