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And now, all at once, as they stared into each other's eyes, Barnabas leaning forward, strong and compelling, Barrymaine upon his knees clinging weakly to the table, sudden and sharp upon the stillness broke a sound an ominous sound, the stumble of a foot that mounted the stair.
Very slowly Barrymaine lifted his heavy head and looked at Barnabas with dilating eyes and with his mouth strangely drawn and twisted. "Oh, Beverley!" he whispered, "I I think I'm " "You must give me that coat!" persisted Barnabas.
Ronald Barrymaine, sir." "Ronald Barrymaine," repeated Barnabas, trying the new point of his pen upon his thumb-nail, yet conscious of the speaker's keen glance, none the less. "No, he did not." "Astounding!" exclaimed Mr. Smivvle. "Why so?" "Because my friend Barrymaine was particularly intimate with his Lordship, before he fell among the Jews, dammem!
And then, Beverley as we s-struggled somehow I g-got hold of of the dagger and struck at him b-blindly. And oh, my God, Beverley I shall never forget how he ch-choked! I can hear it now! But I didn't mean to do it. Oh, I s-swear I never meant it, Beverley s-so help me, God!" "But he is dead," said Barnabas, "and now " "Y-you won't give me up, Beverley?" cried Barrymaine, clinging to his knees.
"Well, and what more, what for yourself? How can this benefit you? Come, speak out, what is your real motive?" "The hope that you may, some day, be worthy of your sister's love." "Worthy, sir!" exclaimed Barrymaine, flushing angrily. "Poverty is no crime!" "No; but there remain brandy and Mr. Chichester." "Ha! would you insult m-my friend?" "Impossible. You have no friend, unless it be Mr.
And, sure enough, hurried feet were heard ascending; whereupon Mr. Smivvle uttered a startled exclamation, and, motioning Barnabas to be seated in the dingiest corner, strode quickly to the door, and thus came face to face with Ronald Barrymaine upon the threshold. "Why, Barry!" said he, standing so as to block Barrymaine's view of the dingy corner, "so you've come back, then?"
Your Sister, CLEONE. Barnabas refolded the letter and, giving it back to Barrymaine, took out Natty Bell's great silver watch. "It is a long way to Headcorn," said he, "I must start at once!" "Ah! You'll g-go then, Beverley?" "Go? Of course!" "Then, oh Beverley, whatever happens whether you're in time or no, you'll k-kill him?"
"Stop no, why should I? She'll learn soon enough now and I'm m-man enough to tell her myself I'm no c-coward, I tell you " Then Cleone raised her head and looked up at her half-brother, and in her eyes were a slow-dawning fear and horror. "Oh, Ronald!" she whispered, "what do you mean?" "Mean?" cried Barrymaine, "I mean that I did it I did it.
Then, looking where he pointed, Barnabas read these words, very neatly set down: MY DEAR BARRYMAINE, I rather suspect Beverley will not ride in the race on the Fifteenth. Just now he is at Hawkhurst visiting Cleone! He is with your sister! If you are still in the same mind about a certain project, no place were better suited.
Chichester over his shoulder, "our young, disinterested Good Samaritan knows she is too proud to permit a stranger to shoulder her brother's responsibilities " "Proud, eh?" cried Barrymaine, leaping up in sudden boyish passion, "well, am I not proud? Did you ever know me anything else did you?" "Never, my dear Ronald," cried Mr. Chichester, turning at last.
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