Part 131 (1/2)

”Sir,” said Barnabas softly, ”do not trouble to ring the bell, my mission here is--not to thrash you.”

”No? Gad, sir, but you're very forbearing, on my soul you are!” and Mr. Chichester smiled; but his nostrils were twitching as his fingers closed upon the bell-rope. ”Now understand me--having shown up your imposture, having driven you from London, I do not propose to trouble myself further with you. True, you have broken into my house, and should very properly be shot like any other rascally thief.

I have weapons close by, and servants within call, but you have ceased to interest me--I have other and weightier affairs on hand, so you may go, sir. I give you one minute to take yourself back to your native mud.” As he ended, Mr. Chichester motioned airily towards the open window. But Barnabas only sighed again and shook his head.

”Sir,” said he, more softly than before, ”give me leave to tell you that the Lady Cleone will not keep her appointment here, to-night.”

”Ah-h!” said Mr. Chichester slowly, and staring at Barnabas under his drawn brows, ”you--mean--?”

”That she was safe home three-quarters of an hour ago.”

Mr. Chichester's long, white fingers writhed suddenly upon the bell-rope, released it, and, lifting his hand swiftly, he loosened his high cravat, and so stood, breathing heavily, his eyes once more narrowed to s.h.i.+ning slits, and with the scar burning redly upon his cheek.

”So you have dared,” he began thickly, ”you have dared to interfere again? You have dared to come here, to tell me so?”

”No, sir,” answered Barnabas, shaking his head, ”I have come here to kill you!”

Barnabas spoke very gently, but as Mr. Chichester beheld his calm eye, the prominence of his chin, and his grimly-smiling mouth, his eyes widened suddenly, his clenched fingers opened, and he reached out again towards the bell-rope. ”Stop!” said Barnabas, and speaking, levelled his pistol.

”Ah!” sighed Mr. Chichester, falling back a step, ”you mean to murder me, do you?”

”I said 'kill'--though yours is the better word, perhaps. Here are two pistols, you will observe; one is for you and one for me. And we are about to sit down--here, at the table, and do our very utmost to murder each other. But first, I must trouble you to lock the door yonder and bring me the key. Lock it, I say!”

Very slowly, and with his eyes fixed in a wide stare upon the threatening muzzle of the weapon Barnabas held, Mr. Chichester, crossed to the door, hesitated, turned the key, and drawing it from the lock, stood with it balanced in his hand a moment, and then tossed it towards Barnabas.

Now the key lay within a yard of Barnabas who, stepping forward, made as though to reach down for it; but in that instant he glanced up at Mr. Chichester under his brows, and in that instant also, Mr. Chichester took a swift, backward step towards the hearth; wherefore, because of this, and because of the look in Mr. Chichester's eyes, Barnabas smiled, and, so smiling, kicked the key into a far corner.

”Come, sir,” said he, drawing another chair up to the table, ”be seated!” saying which, Barnabas sat down, and, keeping one pistol levelled, laid the other within Mr. Chichester's reach.

”They are both loaded, sir,” he continued; ”but pray a.s.sure yourself.”

But Mr. Chichester stood where he was, his eyes roving swiftly from Barnabas to the unlatched window, from that to the door, and so back again to where Barnabas sat, pale, smiling, and with the heavy weapon levelled across the narrow table; and as he stood thus, Mr. Chichester lifted one white hand to his mouth and began to pull at his lips with twitching fingers.

”Come,” repeated Barnabas, ”be seated, sir.”

But Mr. Chichester yet stood utterly still save for the petulant action of those nervous, twitching fingers.

”Sir,” Barnabas persisted, ”sit down, I beg!”

”I'll fight you--here--and now,” said Mr. Chichester, speaking in a strange, m.u.f.fled tone, ”yes--I'll fight you wherever or whenever you wish, but not--not across a table!”

”I think you will,” nodded Barnabas grimly. ”Pray sit down.”

”No!”

”Why, then, we'll stand up for it,” sighed Barnabas rising.

”Now, sir, take up your pistol.”

”No!”

”Then,” said Barnabas, his teeth agleam, ”as G.o.d's above, I'll shoot you where you stand--but first I'll count three!” And once more he levelled the pistol he held.