"Evidently he's not Gumberts," thought Gramont. "Seven of them so far, eh? This is going to be a real job and no mistake."
Almost on his thought, a high-powered and noiseless car came sweeping down the road and he knew at once that Memphis Izzy had arrived. He knew it intuitively, even before he obtained a good glimpse of the broad, heavy figure, and the dominating features. Memphis Izzy was far from handsome, but he possessed character.
"Where's the Goog?" As he left the car, which he had driven himself, Gumberts lifted his voice in a bull-like roar that carried clearly to Gramont. "Where's Charlie the Goog?"
The mechanics appeared hurriedly. One of them, no other than Gramont's friend of the adenoidal aspect, who seemed to own the mellifluous title of Charlie the Goog, hastened to the side of Gumberts, and the latter gave him evident directions regarding some repair to the car. Then, turning, Memphis Izzy strode to the cottage. He nodded greetings to the four men who awaited him, took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and opened the cottage door. All five vanished within.
