"Never!"
"Pick up that pistol--or I'll sh-shoot you where you stand!"
"No!"
"I'll c-count three!" said Barrymaine, his pale face livid against
the darkness behind, "One! Two!--"
But, on the instant, Barnabas sprang in and closed with him, and,
grappled in a fierce embrace, they swayed a moment and staggered out
through the gaping doorway.
Barrymaine fought desperately. Barnabas felt his coat rip and tear,
but he maintained his grip upon his opponent's pistol hand, yet
twice the muzzle of the weapon covered him, and twice he eluded it
before Barrymaine could fire. Therefore, seeing Barrymaine's
intention, reading his deadly purpose in vicious mouth and dilated
nostril, Barnabas loosed one hand, drew back his arm, and
smote--swift and hard. Barrymaine uttered a cry that seemed to
Barnabas to find an echo far off, flung out his arms and, staggering,
fell.
Then Barnabas picked up the pistol and, standing over Barrymaine,
spoke.
"I--had to--do it!" he panted. "Did I--hurt you much?"
But Ronald Barrymaine lay very white and still, and, stooping,
Barnabas saw that he had struck much harder than he had meant, and
that Barrymaine's mouth was cut and bleeding.
Now at this moment, even as he sank on his knees, Barnabas again
heard a cry, but nearer now and with the rustle of flying draperies,
and, glancing up, saw Cleone running towards them.
"Cleone!" he cried, and sprang to his feet.
"You--struck him!" she panted.
"I--yes, I--had to! But indeed he isn't much hurt--" But Cleone was
down upon her knees, had lifted Barrymaine's head to her bosom and
was wiping the blood from his pale face with her handkerchief.
"Cleone," said Barnabas, humbly, "I--indeed I--couldn't help it. Oh,
Cleone--look up!" Yet, while he spoke, there came a rustling of
leaves near by and glancing thither, he saw Mr. Chichester surveying
them, smiling and debonair, and, striding forward, Barnabas
confronted him with scowling brow and fierce, menacing eyes.
"Rogue!" said he, his lips curling, "Rascal!"
"Ah!" nodded Mr. Chichester gently, "you have a pistol there, I see!"
"Your despicable villainy is known!" said Barnabas. "Ha!--smile if
you will, but while you knelt, pistol in hand, in the barn there,
had you troubled to look in the loft above your head you might have
murdered me, and none the wiser. As it is, I am alive, to strip you
of your heritage, and you still owe me twenty thousand guineas. Pah!
keep them to help you from the country, for I swear you shall be
hounded from every club in London; men shall know you for what you
are. Now go, before you tempt me to strangle you for a nauseous beast.
Go, I say!"
Smiling still, but with a devil looking from his narrowed eyes,
Mr. Chichester slowly viewed Barnabas from head to foot, and, turning,
strolled away, swinging his tasselled walking cane as he went, with
Barnabas close behind him, pistol in hand, even as they had once
walked months before.