"Oh, Barnaby Bright,--hear me! Did I not tell you he was marked for
destruction, that evil begetteth evil, and the sword, the sword? I
have watched, and watched, and to-night my watch is ended! Go away!
Go away!"
"What is it? what do you mean?" demanded Barnabas.
With his eyes still fixed and staring, and without turning his head,
Billy Button raised one hand to point with a rigid finger at the wall,
just within the doorway.
"Look!" he whispered.
Then, glancing where he pointed, Barnabas saw a mark upon the
panelling--a blur like the shadow of a hand; but even as he stared
at it, Billy Button, shuddering, passed his sleeve across it and lo!
it was gone!
"Oh, Barnaby Bright!" he whispered, "there is a shadow upon this
place, as black as death, even as I told you--flee from the shadow,
--come away! come away!"
As he breathed the words, the madman sprang past him down the steps,
tossed up his long arms towards the moon with a wild, imploring
gesture, and turning, scudded away on his naked, silent feet.
Now after a while Barnabas stepped into the gloomy hall and stood
listening; the house was very silent, only upon the stillness he
could hear the loud, deliberate tick of the wizen-faced clock upon
the stairs, and, as he stood there, it seemed to him that to-night
it was trying to tell him something. Barnabas shivered suddenly and
drew his long cloak about him, then, closing the door, took a step
along the dark hall, yet paused to listen again, for now it seemed
to him that the tick of the clock was louder than ever.
"Go--back! Go--back!"
Could that be what it meant? Barnabas raised a hand to his brow and,
though he still shivered, felt it suddenly moist and clammy. Then,
clenching his teeth, he crept forward, guiding himself by the wall;
yet as he went, above the shuffle of his feet, above the rustle of
his cloak against the panelling, he could hear the tick of the
clock--ever louder, ever more insistent: "Go--back! Go--back!"
He reached the stairs at last and, groping for the banister, began
to ascend slowly and cautiously, often pausing to listen, and to
stare into the darkness before and behind. On he went and up, past
the wizen-faced clock, and so reached the upper hall at the further
end of which was the dim light that shone from behind a half-closed
door.
Being come to the door, Barnabas lifted his hand to knock, yet stood
again hesitating, his chin on his shoulder, his eyes searching the
darkness behind him, whence came the slow, solemn ticking of the
clock: "Come--back! Come--back!"
For a long moment he stood thus, then, quick and sudden, he threw
wide the door and stepped into the room.