The Amateur Gentleman Part 96

"So--you're--back again, are you?"

"Thank you, yes," said Barnabas, "and quite safe!"

"S-safe?"

"As yet," answered Barnabas.

"You aren't d-drunk, are you?"

"No," said Barnabas, "nor are you, for once."

Barrymaine clenched his fists and took a step towards Barnabas, but spying the bargeman, who now lurched forward, turned upon him in a fury.

"What the d-devil d' you want? Get out of the way, d' ye hear?--get out, I say!"

"Axing your pardon, sir, an' meaning no offence, but summat was said about a bob, sir--vun s.h.i.+lling!"

"d.a.m.nation! Give the fellow his s-s.h.i.+lling, Dig, and then k-kick him out."

Hereupon Mr. Smivvle, having felt through his pockets, slowly produced the coin demanded, and handing it to the bargeman, pointed to the door.

"No,--see him downstairs--into the street, Dig. And you needn't hurry back, I'm going to speak my mind to this f-fellow--once and for all! So l-lock the street door, Dig."

Mr. Smivvle hesitated, glanced at Barnabas, shrugged his shoulders and followed the bargeman out of the room. As the door closed, Barrymaine sprang to it, and, turning the key, faced Barnabas with arms folded, head lowered, and a smile upon his lips:

"Now," said he, "you are going to listen to me--d'you hear? We are going to understand each other before you leave this room! D'you see?"

"Yes," said Barnabas.

"Oh!" he cried bitterly, "I know the sort of c-crawling thing you are, Gaunt has warned me--"

"Gaunt is a liar!" said Barnabas.

"I say,--he's told me,--are you listening? Y-you think, because you've bought my debts, you've bought me, too, body and soul, and--through me--Cleone! Ah, but you haven't,--before that happens y-you'll be dead and rotting--and I, and she as well. Are you listening?--she as well! You think you've g-got me--there beneath your foot--b-but you haven't, no, by G.o.d, you haven't--"

"I tell you Gaunt is a liar!" repeated Barnabas. "I couldn't buy your debts because he had sold them already. Come with me, and I'll prove it,--come and let me face him with the truth--"

"The truth? You? Oh, I might have guessed you'd come creeping round here to see S-Smivvle behind my back--as you do my sister--"

"Sir!" said Barnabas, flus.h.i.+ng.

"What--do you dare deny it? Do you d-dare deny that you have met her--by stealth,--do you? do you? Oh, I know of your secret meetings with her. I know how you have imposed upon the credulity of a weak-minded old woman and a one-armed d-dotard sufficiently to get yourself invited to Hawkhurst. But I tell you this shall stop,--it shall! Yes, by G.o.d,--you shall give me your promise to c-cease your persecution of my sister before you leave this room, or--"

"Or?" said Barnabas.

"Or it will be the w-worse for you!"

"How?"

"I--I'll k-kill you!"

"Murder me?"

"It's no m-murder to kill your sort!"

"Then it _is_ a pistol you have in your pocket, there?"

"Yes--l-look at it!" And, speaking, Barrymaine drew and levelled the weapon with practised hand. "Now listen!" said he. "You will s-sit down at that table there, and write Gaunt to g-give me all the time I need for your c-cursed interest--"

"But I tell you--"

"Liar!" cried Barrymaine, advancing a threatening step. "Liar,--I know! Then, after you've done that,--you will swear never to see or c-communicate with my sister again, or I'll shoot you dead where you stand,--s-so help me G.o.d!"

"You are mad," said Barnabas, "I am not your creditor, and--"

"Liar! I know!" repeated Barrymaine.

"And yet," said Barnabas, fronting him, white-faced, across the table, "I think--I'm sure, there are four things you don't know. The first is that Lady Cleone has promised to marry me--some day--"

"Go on to the next, liar!"

"The second is that my stables were broken into again, this morning,--the third is that my horse killed the man who was trying to hamstring him,--and the fourth is that in the dead man's pocket I found--this!" And Barnabas produced that crumpled piece of paper whereon was drawn the plan of the stables.

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. He lay back in the rickety chair, his arms dangling, his chin upon his breast, never lifting his haggard eyes, and, almost as he spoke, the pistol slipped from his lax fingers and lay all unheeded.

"Not another soul shall ever know," said Barnabas earnestly, "the world shall be none the wiser if you will promise to stop,--now, --to free yourself from Chichester's influence, now,--to let me help you to redeem the past. Promise me this, and I, as your friend, will tear up this d.a.m.ning evidence--here and now."

"And--if I--c-can't?"

Barnabas sighed, and folding up the crumpled paper, thrust it back into his pocket.

"You shall have--a week, to make up your mind. You know my address, I think,--at least, Mr. Smivvle does." So saying, Barnabas stepped towards the door, but, seeing the look on Barrymaine's face, he stooped very suddenly, and picked up the pistol. Then he unlocked the door and went out, closing it behind him. Upon the dark stairs he encountered Mr. Smivvle, who had been sitting there making nervous havoc of his whiskers.

"Gad, Beverley!" he exclaimed, "I ought not to have left you alone with him,--deuce of a state about it, 'pon my honor. But what could I do,--as I sat here listening to you both I was afraid."

"So was I," said Barnabas. "But he will be quiet now, I think. Here is one of his pistols, you'd better hide it. And--forget your differences with him, for if ever a man needed a friend, he does. As for your rent, don't worry about that, I'll send it round to you this evening. Good-by."

So Barnabas went on down the dark stairs, and being come to the door with the faulty latch, let himself out into the dingy street, and thus came face to face with the man in the fur cap.

"Lord, Mr. Barty, sir," said that worthy, glancing up and down the street with a pair of mild, round eyes, "you can burn my neck if I wasn't beginning to vorry about you, up theer all alone vith that 'ere child o' mine. For, sir, of all the Capital coves as ever I see, --'e's vun o' the werry capital-est."

CHAPTER LI