"Cleone!" The Viscount started.
"What,—you think—? Oh, impossible! The fellow would never have a chance, she despises him, I know."
"And fears him too, Dick."
"Fears him? Gad! what do you mean, Bev?"
"I mean that, unworthy though he may be, she idolizes her brother."
"Half-brother, Bev."
"And for his sake, would sacrifice her fortune,—ah! and herself!"
"Well?"
"Well, Dick, Chichester knows this, and is laying his plans accordingly."
"How?"
"He's teaching Barrymaine to drink, for one thing—"
"He didn't need much teaching, Bev."
"Then, he has got him in his power,—somehow or other, anyhow, Barrymaine fears him, I know. When the time comes, Chichester means to reach the sister through her love for her brother, and—before he shall do that, Dick—" Barnabas threw up his head and clenched his fists.
"Well, Bev?"
"I'll—kill him, Dick."
"You mean—fight him, of course?"
"It would be all one," said Barnabas grimly.
"And how do you propose to—go about the matter—to save Barrymaine?"
"I shall pay off his debts, first of all."
"And then?"
"Take him away with me."
"When?"
"To-morrow, if possible—the sooner the better."
"And give up the race, Bev?"
"Yes," said Barnabas, sighing, "even that if need be."
Here the Viscount lay back among his pillows and stared up at the tester of the bed, and his gaze was still directed thitherwards when he spoke:
"And you would do all this—"
"For—Her sake," said Barnabas softly, "besides, I promised, Dick."
"And you have seen her—only once, Bev!"
"Twice, Dick."
Again there was silence while the Viscount stared up at the tester and Barnabas frowned down at the clenched fist on his knee.
"Gad!" said the Viscount suddenly, "Gad, Beverley, what a deuced determined fellow you are!"
"You see—I love her, Dick."
"And by the Lord, Bev, shall I tell you what I begin to think?"
"Yes, Dick."
"Well, I begin to think that in spite of—er—me, and hum—all the rest of 'em, in spite of everything—herself included, if need be, —you'll win her yet."
"And shall I tell you what I begin to think, Dick?"
"Yes."
"I begin to think that you have never—loved her at all."
"Eh?" cried the Viscount, starting up very suddenly, "what?—never lov—oh, Gad, Beverley! what the deuce should make you think that?"
