Part 66 (1/2)

But, even as Barnabas advanced with very evident purpose, a tall figure stood framed in the open doorway.

”Ah, Quigly,--pray what is all this?” a chill, incisive voice demanded. Barnabas turned, and lowering the cane, stood looking curiously at the speaker. A tall, slender man he was, with a face that might have been any age,--a mask-like face, smooth and long, and devoid of hair as it was of wrinkles; an arresting face, with its curving nostrils, thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, high, prominent brow, and small, piercingly-bright eyes; quick eyes, that glinted between their red-rimmed, hairless lids, old in their experience of men and the ways of men. For the rest, he was clad in a rich yet sober habit, unrelieved by any color save for the gleaming seals at his fob, and the snowy lace at throat and wrist; his hair--evidently a wig--curled low on either cheek, and his hands were well cared for, with long, prehensile fingers.

”You are Jasper Gaunt, I think?” said Barnabas at last.

”At your service, sir, and you, I know, are Mr. Barnabas Beverley.”

So they stood, fronting each other, the Youth, unconquered as yet, and therefore indomitable, and the Man, with glittering eyes old in their experience of men and the ways of men.

”You wished to see me on a matter of business, Mr. Beverley?”

”Yes.”

”Then pray step this way.”

”No,” said Barnabas, ”first I require your signature to this lady's papers.”

Jasper Gaunt smiled, and shrugged his shoulders slightly.

”Such clients as this, sir,--I leave entirely to Mr. Quigly.”

”Then, in this instance, sir, you will perhaps favor me by giving the matter your personal attention!”

Jasper Gaunt hesitated, observed the glowing eye, flushed cheek, and firm-set lips of the speaker, and being wise in men and their ways,--bowed.

”To oblige you, Mr. Beverley, with pleasure. Though I understand from Mr. Quigly that she is unable to meet--”

”Seventy-eight pounds, sir! She can pay it all--every blood-stained, tear-soaked farthing. She should meet it were it double--treble the sum!” said Barnabas, opening his purse.

”Ah, indeed, I see! I see!” nodded Jasper Gaunt. ”Take the money, Quigly, I will make out the receipt. If you desire, you shall see me sign it, Mr. Beverley.” So saying, he crossed to the desk, wrote the doc.u.ment, and handed it to Barnabas, with a bow that was almost ironical.

Then Barnabas gave the precious paper into the woman's eager fingers, and looked down into the woman's s.h.i.+ning eyes.

”Sir,” said she between trembling lips, ”I cannot thank you,--I--I cannot. But G.o.d sees, and He will surely repay.”

”Indeed,” stammered Barnabas, ”I--it was only three pounds, after all, and--there,--go,--hurry away to your husband, and--ah! that reminds me,--he will want help, perhaps!” Here Barnabas took out his card, and thrust it into her hand. ”Take that to my house, ask to see my Steward, Mr. Peterby,--stay, I'll write the name for you, he will look after you, and--good-by!”

”It is a truly pleasant thing to meet with heartfelt grat.i.tude, sir,”

said Jasper Gaunt, as the door closed behind the woman. ”And now I am entirely at your service,--this way, sir.”

Forthwith Barnabas followed him into another room, where sat the Captain, his long legs stretched out before him, his chin on his breast, staring away at vacancy.

”Sir,” said Jasper Gaunt, glancing from Barnabas to the Captain and back again, ”he will not trouble us, I think, but if you wish him to withdraw--?”

”Thank you--no,” answered Barnabas, ”Captain Slingsby is my friend!”

Jasper Gaunt bowed, and seated himself at his desk opposite Barnabas.

His face was in shadow, for the blind had been half-drawn to exclude the glare of the afternoon sun, and he sat, or rather lolled, in a low, deeply cus.h.i.+oned chair, studying Barnabas with his eyes that were so bright and so very knowing in the ways of mankind; very still he sat, and very quiet, waiting for Barnabas to begin. Now on the wall, immediately behind him, was a long, keen-bladed dagger, that glittered evilly where the light caught it; and as he sat there so very quiet and still, with his face in the shadow, it seemed to Barnabas as though he lolled there dead, with the dagger smitten sideways through his throat, and in that moment Barnabas fancied he could hear the deliberate tick-tock of the wizen-faced clock upon the stairs.

”I have come,” began Barnabas at last, withdrawing his eyes from the glittering steel with an effort, ”I am here on behalf of one--in whom I take an interest--a great interest.”