"You lost, then?"
"Oh, of course, even my size is against me, you see." Hereupon, once
more, and very suddenly, the Captain relapsed into his gloomy mood,
nor could Barnabas dispel it; his efforts were rewarded only by
monosyllables until, swinging round into a short and rather narrow
street, he brought his horses to a walk.
"Here we are, Beverley!"
"Where?" Barnabas inquired.
"Kirby Street,--his street. And there's the house,--his house," and
Captain Slingsby pointed his whip at a high, flat-fronted house. It
was a repellent-looking place with an iron railing before it, and
beyond this railing a deep and narrow area, where a flight of damp
steps led down to a gloomy door. The street was seemingly a quiet one,
and, at this hour, deserted save for themselves and a solitary man
who stood with his back to them upon the opposite side of the way,
apparently lost in profound thought. A very tall man he was, and
very upright, despite the long white hair that showed beneath his hat,
which, like his clothes, was old and shabby, and Barnabas noticed
that his feet were bare. This man Captain Slingsby incontinent
hailed in his characteristic fashion.
"Hi,--you over there!" he called. "Hallo!" The man never stirred.
"Oho! b'gad, are you deaf? Just come over here and hold my horses
for me, will you?" The man raised his head suddenly and turned. So
quickly did he turn that the countless gleaming buttons that he wore
upon his coat rang a jingling chime. Now, looking upon this strange
figure, Barnabas started up, and springing from the curricle,
crossed the street and looked upon the man with a smile.
"Have you forgotten me?" said Barnabas. The man smiled in turn, and
sweeping off the weather-beaten hat, saluted him with an old-time
bow of elaborate grace.
"Sir." he answered in his deep, rich voice, "Billy Button never
forgets--faces. You are Barnaby Bright--Barnabas, 't is all the same.
Sir, Billy Button salutes you."
"Why, then," said Barnabas, rather diffidently, seeing the other's
grave dignity, "will you oblige me by--by holding my friend's horses?
They are rather high-spirited and nervous."
"Nervous, sir? Ah, then they need me. Billy Button shall sing to them,
horses love music, and, like trees, are excellent listeners."
Forthwith Billy Button crossed the street with his long, stately
stride, and taking the leader's bridle, fell to soothing the horses
with soft words, and to patting them with gentle, knowing hands.
"B'gad!" exclaimed the Captain, staring, "that fellow has been used
to horses--once upon a time. Poor devil!" As he spoke he glanced
from Billy Button's naked feet and threadbare clothes to his own
glossy Hessians and immaculate garments, and Barnabas saw him wince
as he turned towards the door of Jasper Gaunt's house. Now when
Barnabas would have followed, Billy Button caught him suddenly by
the sleeve.