"Murder!" Barrymaine repeated, "so it would—murder! Yes, by God!"
"And secondly, you haven't the nerve. Though he has clandestine meetings with your sister, though he crush you into the mud, trample you under his feet, throw you into a debtor's prison to rot out your days—though he ruin you body and soul, and compromise your sister's honor—still you'd never—murder him, Ronald, you couldn't, you haven't the heart, because it would be—murder!"
Mr. Chichester's voice was low, yet each incisive, quick-spoken word reached Barnabas, while upon Barrymaine their effect was demoniac. Dropping his pistol-case, he threw up wild arms and shook his clenched fists in the air.
"Damn him!" he cried, "damn him! B-bury me in a debtor's prison, will he? Foul my sister's honor w-will he? Never! never! I tell you I'll kill him first!"
"Murder him, Ronald?"
"Murder? I t-tell you it's no murder to kill his sort. G-give me the pistols."
"Hush! Come into the barn."
"No. W-what for?"
"Well, the time is getting on, Ronald,—nearly seven o'clock, and your ardent lovers are usually before their time. Come into the barn."
"N-no,—devilish dark hole!"
"But—he'll see you here!"
"What if he does, can't g-get away from me,—better f-for it out here—lighter."
"What do you mean? Better—for what?"
"The m-meeting."
"What—you mean to try and make him fight, do you?"
"Of course—try that way first. Give him a ch-chance, you know, —c-can't shoot him down on s-sight."
"Ah-h!" said Mr. Chichester, very slowly, "you can't shoot him on sight—of course you can't. I see."
"What? W-what d'ye see? Devilish dark hole in there!"
"All the better, Ronald,—think of his surprise when instead of finding an armful of warm loveliness waiting for him in the shadows, he finds the avenging brother! Come into the shadows, Ronald."
"All right,—yes, the shadow. Instead of the sister, the b-brother—yes, by God!"
Now the flooring of the loft where Barnabas lay was full of wide cracks and fissures, for the boards had warped by reason of many years of rain and sun; thus, lying at full length, Barnabas saw them below, Barrymaine leaning against the crumbling wall, while Mr. Chichester stooped above the open duelling-case.
"What—they're loaded are they?" said he.
"Of c-course!"
"They're handsome tools, Ronald, and with your monogram, I see!"
"Yes. Is your f-flask empty, Chichester?"
"No, I think not," answered Mr. Chichester, still stooping above the pistol in his hand.
"Then give it me, will you—m-my throat's on fire."
"Surely you 've had enough, Ronald? Did you know this flint was loose?"
"I'm n-not drunk, I t-tell you. I know when I've had enough, g-give me some brandy, Chit, I know there's p-precious little left."
"Why then, fix this flint first, Ronald, I see you have all the necessary tools here." So saying, Mr. Chichester rose and began feeling through his pockets, while Barrymaine, grumbling, stooped above the pistol-case. Then, even as he did so, Mr. Chichester drew out a silver flask, unscrewed it, and thereafter made a certain quick, stealthy gesture behind his companion's back, which done, he screwed up the flask again, shook it, and, as Barrymaine rose, held it out to him:
"Yes, I'm afraid there's very little left, Ronald," said he. With a murmur of thanks Barrymaine took the flask and, setting it to his lips, drained it at a gulp, and handed it back.
"Gad, Chichester!" he exclaimed, "it tastes damnably of the f-flask—faugh! What time is it?"
"A quarter to seven!"
"Th-three quarters of an hour to wait!"
"It will soon pass, Ronald, besides, he's sure to be early."
"Hope so! But I—I think I'll s-sit down."
"Well, the floor's dry, though dirty."
"D-dirty? So it is, but beggars can't be c-choosers and—dev'lish drowsy place, this!—I'm a b-beggar—you know t-that, and—pah! I think I'm l-losing my—taste for brandy—"
"Really, Ronald? I've thought you seemed over fond of it—especially lately."
"No—no!" answered Barrymaine, speaking in a thick, indistinct voice and rocking unsteadily upon his heels, "I'm not—n-not drunk, only—dev'lish sleepy!" and swaying to the wall he leaned there with head drooping.
