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Now, at the sight of this paper, Barrymaine fell back a step, his pistol-hand wavered, fell to his side, and sinking into a chair, he seemed to shrink into himself as he stared dully at a worn patch in the carpet. "Only one beside myself knows of this," said Barnabas. "Well?" The word seemed wrung from Barrymaine's quivering lips.
Therefore, seeing Barrymaine's intention, reading his deadly purpose in vicious mouth and dilated nostril, Barnabas loosed one hand, drew back his arm, and smote swift and hard. Barrymaine uttered a cry that seemed to Barnabas to find an echo far off, flung out his arms and, staggering, fell. Then Barnabas picked up the pistol and, standing over Barrymaine, spoke. "I had to do it!" he panted.
Barrymaine's liabilities." "For how much, sir?" "Twenty-two thousand pounds." Then Jasper Gaunt stirred, sighed, and leaned forward in his chair. "A handsome sum, sir, a very handsome sum, but " and he smiled and shook his head. "Pray what do you mean by 'but'?" demanded Barnabas. "That the sum is inadequate, sir." "Twenty-two thousand pounds is not enough then?" "It is not enough, Mr. Beverley."
So Barnabas took Ronald Barrymaine's letter, and opening it, saw that it was indeed scrawled in characters so shaky as to be sometimes almost illegible; but, holding it in the full light of the moon, he read as follows: DEAREST OF SISTERS, I was unable to keep the appointment I begged for in my last, owing to a sudden indisposition, and, though better now, I am still ailing.
"Did I hurt you much?" But Ronald Barrymaine lay very white and still, and, stooping, Barnabas saw that he had struck much harder than he had meant, and that Barrymaine's mouth was cut and bleeding. Now at this moment, even as he sank on his knees, Barnabas again heard a cry, but nearer now and with the rustle of flying draperies, and, glancing up, saw Cleone running towards them.
For a moment Barnabas stood hesitating, undecided whether to go on to Barrymaine's lodging or no, and finally struck off in the opposite direction, towards Gray's Inn Lane and so by devious ways eventually arrived at the back door of the "Gun," on which he forthwith knocked.
But even in that moment Barnabas was conscious that the door had opened softly behind him, saw the light fade out of Barrymaine's eyes, felt the hand grow soft and lax, and turning about, beheld Mr. Chichester smiling at them from the threshold. There was a moment of strained silence, then, as Barnabas sank back on the rickety chair, Mr. Chichester laughed softly, and stepped into the room.
"And you would advance the money at once?" "On a condition!" Once again their eyes met, and once again Barrymaine's dropped; his fingers clenched and unclenched themselves, he stirred restlessly, and, finally, spoke. "And your condition. Is it Cleone?" "No!" said Barnabas vehemently. "Then, what is it?" "That from this hour you give up brandy and Mr. Chichester both evil things."
Chichester, "I am your friend, Ronald, and I think you will always remember that." Mr. Chichester's tone was soothing, and the pat he bestowed upon Barrymaine's drooping shoulder was gentle as a caress, yet Barrymaine flinched and drew away, and the hand he stretched out towards the bottle was trembling all at once. "Yes," Mr.
"Certainly not, my dear fellow," answered Mr. Smivvle, drawing Barrymaine's clenched fist through his arm and holding it there, "nobody wants to. And, as for you, Chichester couldn't come at a better time let me introduce our friend Mr. Beverley " "Thank you, Smivvle, but we've met before," said Mr.
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