The Amateur Gentleman Part 126

Then Barnabas turned back to the table, and seeing how wistfully Mr. Bimby eyed the teapot, poured him out another cup; and while they drank together, Mr. Bimby chatted, in his pleasant way, of bitter wrong, of shattered faith and ideals, of the hopeless struggle against circ.u.mstance, and of the oncoming terror of old age, bringing with it failing strength and all the horrors of a debtor's prison. And now, mingled with his pity, Barnabas was conscious of a growing respect for this pleasant, small gentleman, and began to understand why a man might seek the "shorter way," yet be no great coward after all.

So Mr. Bimby chattered on and Barnabas listened until the day declined to evening; until Barnabas began to hearken for Peterby's returning footstep on the uncarpeted stair outside. Even in the act of lighting the candles his ears were acutely on the stretch, and thus he gradually became aware of another sound, soft and dull, yet continuous, a sound difficult to locate. But as he stood staring into the flame of the candle he had just lighted, striving meanwhile to account for and place this noise, Mr. Bimby rose and lifted a thin, arresting hand.

"Sir," said he, "do you hear anything?"

"Yes. I was wondering what it could be."

"I think I can tell you, sir," said Mr. Bimby, pointing to a certain part of the cracked and blackened ceiling; "it is up there, in my room--listen!"

And now, all at once Barnabas started and caught his breath, for from the floor above came a soft trampling as of unshod feet, yet the feet never moved from the one spot.

"Indeed," sighed Mr. Bimby, "I greatly fear my poor young friend is ill again. I must go up to him, but first--may I beg--"

"Sir," said Barnabas, his gaze still fixed upon a certain corner of the ceiling, "I should like to go with you, if I may."

"You are very good, sir, very kind, I protest you are," quavered Mr. Bimby, "and hem! if I might suggest--a little brandy--?" But even as Barnabas reached for the bottle, there came a hurry of footsteps on the stair, a hand fumbled at the door and Mr. Smivvle entered with Peterby at his heels.

"Oh, Beverley!" he exclaimed, tugging nervously at his whiskers, "Barry's gone--most distressing--utterly vanished! I just happened to--ah--pop round the corner, my dear fellow, and when I came back he'd disappeared, been looking for him everywhere. Poor Barry--poor fellow, they've got him safe enough by now! Oh Gad, Beverley! what can I do?"

"Sit down," said Barnabas, "I think he's found." So saying he turned and followed Mr. Bimby out of the room.

CHAPTER LXVIII

CONCERNING THE IDENt.i.tY OF MR. BIMBY'S GUEST

It needed but a glance at the huddled figure in the comfortless little attic to a.s.sure Barnabas of the ident.i.ty of Mr. Bimby's "poor young friend"; wherefore, setting down the candle on the broken table, he crossed the room and touched that desolate figure with a gentle hand.

Then Ronald Barrymaine looked up and, seeing Barnabas, struggled to his knees:

"Beverley!" he exclaimed, "oh, thank G.o.d! You'll save her from that d-devil--I tried to kill him, b-but he was too quick for me. But you--you'll save her!"

"What do you mean? Is it Cleone? What do you mean--speak!" said Barnabas, beginning to tremble.

"Yes, yes!" muttered Barrymaine, pa.s.sing a hand across his brow.

"Listen then! Chichester knows--he knows, I tell you! He came to me, three days ago I think--while D-Dig was out, and he talked and talked, and questioned me and questioned me, and s-so I--I told him everything--everything! But I had to, Beverley, I had to--_he_ made me--yes _he_, Jasper Gaunt. So I told C-Chichester everything and then--he laughed, and I t-tried to k-kill him, but he got away and left me alone with--him. He's always near me now--always c-close behind me where I can't quite s-see him, only sometimes I hear him ch-choke, oh, my G.o.d, Beverley!--like he did--that night! I r-ran away to escape him but--oh Beverley!--he's followed me, he was here a moment ago--I heard him, I t-tell you! Oh, Beverley, don't l-look as if you thought me m-mad, I'm not! I'm not! I know it's all an illusion, of c-course, but--"

"Yes," said Barnabas gently, "but what of Cleone?"

"Cleone? Oh, G.o.d help me, Beverley, she's going to g-give herself to that devil--to buy his silence!"

"What--what," stammered Barnabas. "What do you mean?"

"I got this to-day--read it and see!" said Barrymaine and drew from his bosom a crumpled letter. Then Barnabas took it, and smoothing it out, read these words:

Ronald dear, I'm sorry I didn't let you kiss me good-by. So sorry that I am going to do all that a woman can to save you.

Mr. Chichester has learned your awful secret, and I am the price of his silence. So, because of my promise to our dying mother, and because life can hold nothing for me now, because life and death are alike to me now, I am going to marry him to-night, at his house at Headcorn.

Good-by, Ronald dear, and that G.o.d may forgive and save you in this life and hereafter, is the undying prayer of

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?"

"I think," said Barnabas, putting away his watch, "yes, I think I shall."

"The house is called Ashleydown," continued Barrymaine feverishly, "a b-big house about a m-mile this side the village."

"Ashleydown? I think I've heard mention of it before. But now, you must come with me, Smivvle is downstairs, you shall have my rooms to-night."

"Thanks, Beverley, but do you m-mind--giving me your arm? I get f-faint sometimes--my head, I think, the faintness came on me in the s-street to-night, and I f-fell, I think."

"Indeed, yes, sir," added Mr. Bimby with a little bow, "it was so I found you, sir."

"Ah, yes, you were kind to me, I remember--you have my g-grat.i.tude, sir. Now, Beverley, give me your arm, I--I--oh, G.o.d help me!"

Barrymaine reached out with clutching fingers, swayed, twisted sideways and would have fallen, had not Barnabas caught him.

"Poor boy!" cried Mr. Bimby, "a fit, I think--so very young, poor boy!

You'll need help, sir. Oh, poor boy, poor boy!" So saying, the little gentleman hurried away and presently returned with John and Mr. Smivvle. Thus, between them, they bore Ronald Barrymaine downstairs and, having made him as comfortable as might be in the inner room, left him to the care of the faithful Mr. Smivvle.

Then Barnabas crossed to the narrow window and stood there a while, looking down at the dim figures of the Bow Street Runners who still lounged against the wall in the gathering dusk and talked together in gruff murmurs.

"John," said he at last, "I must trouble you to change coats with me."

Peterby slipped off the garment in question, and aided Barnabas to put it on.

"Now, your fur cap, John."

"Sir," said Peterby all anxiety in a moment, "you are never thinking of going out, tonight--it would be madness!"

"Then mad am I. Your cap, John."

"But--if you are arrested--"

"He will be a strong man who stays me tonight, John. Give me your cap."

So Peterby brought the fur cap and, putting it on, Barnabas pulled it low down over his brows and turned to the door. But there Peterby stayed him.

"Sir," he pleaded, "let me go for you."