And when he was gone, and the sound of his going had died away in the distance, Barnabas turned and swiftly retraced his steps; but now he went with fists clenched, and head forward, as one very much on the alert.
Evening was falling and the shadows were deepening apace, and as he went, Barnabas kept ever in the shelter of the trees until he saw before him once more, the desolate and crumbling barn of Oakshott. For a moment he paused, eyeing its scarred and battered walls narrowly, then, stepping quickly forward, entered the gloomy doorway and, turning towards a certain spot, started back before the threatening figure that rose up from the shadows.
"Ah! So you 've c-come at last, sir!" said Barrymaine, steadying himself against the wall with one hand while he held the pistol levelled in the other, "ins-stead of the weak s-sister you find the avenging brother! Been waiting for you hours. C-cursed dreary hole this, and I fell asleep, but—"
"Because you were drugged!" said Barnabas.
"D-drugged, sir! W-what d' you mean?"
"Chichester drugged the brandy—"
"Chichester?"
"He meant to murder me while you slept and fix the crime on you—"
"Liar!" cried Barrymaine, "you came here to meet my s-sister, but instead of a defenceless girl you meet me and I'm g-going to settle with you—once and for all—t-told you I would, last time we met. There's another pistol in the c-case yonder—pick it up and t-take your ground."
"Listen to me," Barnabas began.
"N-not a word—you're going to fight me—"
"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.
Now at this moment it was that Cleone, yet kneeling beside Barrymaine, chanced to espy a crumpled piece of paper that lay within a yard of her, and thus, half unwitingly, she reached out and took it up, glanced at it with vague eyes, then started, and knitting her black brows, read these words:
My Dear Barnabas,—The beast has discovered me. I thought I only scorned him, but now I know I fear him, too. So, in my dread, I turn to you. Yes, I will go now— anywhere you wish. Fear has made me humble, and I accept your offer. Oh, take me away—hide me, anywhere, so shall I always be
Your grateful,
CLEMENCY.
Thus, in a while, when Barrymaine opened his eyes it was to see Cleone kneeling beside him with bent head, and with both hands clasped down upon her bosom, fierce hands that clenched a crumpled paper between them. At first he thought she was weeping, but, when she turned towards him, he saw that her eyes were tearless and very bright, and that on either cheek burned a vivid patch of color.
"Oh, Ronald!" she sighed, her lips quivering suddenly, "I—am glad you are better—but—oh, my dear, I wish I—were dead!"
"There, there, Clo!" he muttered, patting her stooping shoulder,
"I f-frightened you, I suppose. But I'm all right now, dear. W-where's
Chichester?"
"I—don't know, Ronald."
"But you, Cleone? You came here to m-meet this—this Beverley?"
