The Amateur Gentleman Part 107

"Yes," said Barnabas, pointing to a certain line of Cleone's letter, "here it is!"

"Ah," exclaimed Mr. Shrig, nodding and rubbing his hands again, "your eyes is good 'uns, ain't they, sir?"

"Yes."

"Then jest take a good look at that theer seven-thirty, vill you, sir--come, vot do you see?"

"That the paper is roughened a little, and the ink has run."

"Yes, and vot else? Look at it a bit closer, sir."

"Why," said Barnabas staring hard at the spot, "it looks as though something had been scratched out!"

"And so it has, sir. If you go there at seven-thirty, it von't be a fair lady as'll be vaiting to meet you. The time's been altered o'

course--jest as I 'oped and expected."

"Ah!" said Barnabas, slowly and very softly, and clenched his fist.

"So now, d'ye see, you can't go--can ye?" said Mr. Shrig in a hopeless tone.

"Yes!" said Barnabas.

"Eh? Vot--you vill?"

"Most a.s.suredly!"

"But--but it'll be madness!" stammered Mr. Shrig, his round eyes rounder than ever, "it'll be fair asking to be made a unfort'nate wictim of, if ye go. O' course it 'ud be a good case for me, and good cases is few enough--but you mustn't go now, it 'ud be madness!"

"No," said Barnabas, frowning darkly, "because I shall go--before seven-thirty, you see."

CHAPTER LV

WHICH NARRATES SUNDRY HAPPENINGS AT OAKSHOTT'S BARN

Even on a summer's afternoon Oakshott's Barn is a desolate place, a place of shadows and solitude, whose slumberous silence is broken only by the rustle of leaves, the trill of a skylark high overhead, or the pipe of throstle and blackbird.

It is a place apart, shut out from the world of life and motion, a place suggestive of decay and degeneration, and therefore a depressing place at all times.

Yet, standing here, Barnabas smiled and uncovered his head, for here, once, SHE had stood, she who was for him the only woman in all the world. So having paused awhile to look about him, he presently went on into the gloom of the barn, a gloom damp and musty with years and decay.

Now glancing sharply this way and that, Barnabas espied a ladder or rather the mouldering remains of one, that led up from the darkest corner to a loft; up this ladder, with all due care, he mounted, and thus found himself in what had once served as a hay-loft, for in one corner there yet remained a rotting pile. It was much lighter up here, for in many places the thatch was quite gone, while at one end of the loft was a square opening or window. He was in the act of looking from this window when, all at once he started and crouched down, for, upon the stillness broke a sudden sound,--the rustling of leaves, and a voice speaking in loud, querulous tones. And in a while as he watched, screening himself from all chance of observation, Barnabas saw two figures emerge into the clearing and advance towards the barn.

"I tell you C-Chichester, it will be either him or m-me!"

"If he--condescends to fight you, my dear Ronald."

"C-condescend?" cried Barrymaine, and it needed but a glance at his flushed cheek and swaying figure to see that he had been drinking more heavily than usual. "C-condescend, d.a.m.n his insolence!

Condescend, will he? I'll give him no chance for his c-cursed condescension, I--I tell you, Chichester, I'll--"

"But you can't make a man fight, Ronald."

"Can't I? Why then if he won't fight I'll--"

"Hus.h.!.+ don't speak so loud!"

"Well, I will, Chichester,--s-so help me G.o.d, I will!"

"Will--what, Ronald?"

"W-wait and see!"

"You don't mean--murder, Ronald?"

"I didn't s-say so, d-did I?"

"Of course not, my dear Barrymaine, but--shall I take the pistols?"

And Mr. Chichester stretched out his hand towards a flat, oblong box that Barrymaine carried clutched beneath his arm. "Better give them to me, Ronald."

"No,--w-why should I?"

"Well,--in your present mood--"

"I--I'm not--d-drunk,--damme, I'm not, I tell you! And I'll give the f-fellow every chance--honorable meeting."

"Then, if he refuses to fight you, as of course he will, you'll let him go to--ah--make love to Cleone?"

"No, by G.o.d!" cried Barrymaine in a sudden, wild fury, "I-I'll sh-shoot him first!"

"Kill him?"

"Yes, k-kill him!"

"Oh no you won't, Ronald, for two reasons. First of all, it would be murder--!"

"Murder!" Barrymaine repeated, "so it would--murder! Yes, by G.o.d!"

"And secondly, you haven't the nerve. Though he has clandestine meetings with your sister, though he crush you into the mud, trample you under his feet, throw you into a debtor's prison to rot out your days--though he ruin you body and soul, and compromise your sister's honor--still you'd never--murder him, Ronald, you couldn't, you haven't the heart, because it would be--murder!"

Mr. Chichester's voice was low, yet each incisive, quick-spoken word reached Barnabas, while upon Barrymaine their effect was demoniac.

Dropping his pistol-case, he threw up wild arms and shook his clenched fists in the air.

"d.a.m.n him!" he cried, "d.a.m.n him! B-bury me in a debtor's prison, will he? Foul my sister's honor w-will he? Never! never! I tell you I'll kill him first!"

"Murder him, Ronald?"