The Amateur Gentleman Part 122

"Vell, took up p'r'aps, or shall ve say--arrested,--by some o' the other traps--sich werry smart coves, too!"

"Do you think it likely, Mr. Shrig?"

"Vell, sir," said Mr. Shrig, with his placid smile, "there's some traps as is so uncommon smart that they've got an 'abit of arresting innercent parties verever found, d'ye see. But if they should 'appen to lay their 'ooks on ye, jest tip me the office, sir."

"Thank you," said Barnabas, "I shan't forget," and, with a final nod to Mr. Shrig, turned and followed the Corporal into Gray's Inn Lane.

Now when Barnabas would have gone his way the Corporal stayed him with a very large but very gentle hand, and thereafter stood, rubbing his shaven chin with his s.h.i.+ning hook and seeming very much abashed.

"What is it, Corporal?" Barnabas inquired.

"Well, sir," said the soldier diffidently, "it's like this, sir, my pal Jarsper and me, 'aving heard of--of your--altered circ.u.mstances, sir, wishes it to be understood as once your pals, ever your pals, come s.h.i.+ne, come rain. We likewise wish it to be understood as if at any time a--a guinea would come in 'andy-like, sir--or say two or three, my pal Jarsper and me will be proud to oblige, proud, sir.

And lastly, sir, my pal Jarsper and me would 'ave you to know as if at any time you want a friend to your back, there's me and there's 'im--or a roof to your 'ead, why there's ever and always the 'Gun'

open to you, sir. We wishes you to understand this and--good evening, sir!"

But, or ever the blus.h.i.+ng Corporal could escape, Barnabas caught and wrung his hand:

"And I, Corporal," said he, "I wish you both to know that I am proud to have won two such staunch friends, and that I shall always esteem it an honor to ask your aid or take your hands,--good night, Corporal!"

So saying, Barnabas turned upon his heel, and as he went his step was free and his eye brighter than it had been.

He took an intricate course by winding alleys and narrow side-streets, keeping his glance well about him until at length he came to a certain door in a certain dingy street,--and, finding the faulty latch yield to his hand, entered a narrow, dingy hall and groped his way up the dingiest stairs in the world.

Now all at once he fancied he heard a stealthy footstep that climbed on in the darkness before him, and he paused suddenly, but, hearing nothing, strode on, then stopped again for, plain enough this time, some one stumbled on the stair above him. So he stood there in the gloom, very still and very silent, and thus he presently heard another sound, very soft and faint like the breathing of a sigh. And all at once Barnabas clenched his teeth and spoke.

"Who is it?" he demanded fiercely, "now, by G.o.d--if it's you, Chichester--" and with the word, he reached out before him in the dark with merciless, griping hands.

The contact of something warm and soft; a broken, pitiful cry of fear, and he had a woman in his arms. And, even as he clasped that yielding form, Barnabas knew instinctively who it was, and straightway thrilled with a wild joy.

"Madam!" he said hoa.r.s.ely. "Madam!"

But she never stirred, nay it almost seemed she sank yet closer into his embrace, if that could well be.

"Cleone!" he whispered.

"Barnabas," sighed a voice; and surely no other voice in all the world could have uttered the word so tenderly.

"I--I fear I frightened you?"

"Yes, a little--Barnabas."

"You are--trembling very much."

"Am I--Barnabas?"

"I am sorry that I--frightened you."

"I'm better now."

"Yet you--tremble!"

"But I--think I can walk if--"

"If--?"

"If you will help me, please--Barnabas."

Oh, surely never had those dark and dingy stairs, worn though they were by the tread of countless feet, heard till now a voice so soft, so low and sweet, so altogether irresistible! Such tender, thrilling tones might have tamed Hyrcanean tigers or charmed the ferocity of Cerberus himself. Then how might our Barnabas hope to resist, the more especially as one arm yet encircled the yielding softness of her slender waist and her fragrant breath was upon his cheek?

Help her? Of course he would.

"It's so very--dark," she sighed.

"Yes, it's very dark," said Barnabas, "but it isn't far to the landing--shall we go up?"

"Yes, but--" my lady hesitated a moment as one who takes breath for some great effort, and, in that moment, he felt her bosom heave beneath his hand. "Oh, Barnabas," she whispered, "won't you--kiss me--first?"

Then Barnabas trembled in his turn, the arm about her grew suddenly rigid and, when he spoke, his voice was harsh and strained.

"Madam," said he, "can the mere kiss of an--inn-keeper's son restore your dead faith?"

Now when he had said this, Cleone shrank in his embrace and uttered a loud cry as if he had offered her some great wrong, and, breaking from him, was gone before him up the stair, running in the dark.

Oh, Youth! Oh, Pride!

So Barnabas hurried after her and thus, as she threw open Barrymaine's door he entered with her and, in his sudden abas.e.m.e.nt, would have knelt to her, but Ronald Barrymaine had sprung up from the couch and now leaned there, staring with dazed eyes like one new wakened from sleep.

"Ronald," she cried, running to him, "I came as soon as I could, but I didn't understand your letter. You wrote of some great danger. Oh, Ronald dear, what is it--this time?"

"D-danger!" he repeated, and with the word, turned to stare over his shoulder into the dingiest corner: "d-danger, yes, so I am,--but t-tell me who it is--behind me, in the corner?"

"No one, Ronald."

"Yes--yes there is, I tell you," he whispered, "look again--now, d-don't you see him?"

"No, oh no!" answered Cleone, clasping her hands, and shrinking before Barrymaine's wild and haggard look. "Oh, Ronald, there's--no one there!"

"Yes there is, he's always there now--always just behind me. Last night he began to talk to me--ah, no, no--what am I saying? never heed me, Clo. I--I asked you to come because I'm g-going away, soon, very s-soon, Clo, and I know I shall n-never see you again. I suppose you thought it was m-money I wanted, but no--it's not that, I wanted to say good-by because you see I'm g-going away--to-night!"

"Going away, Ronald?" she repeated, sinking to her knees beside the rickety couch, for he had fallen back there as though overcome by sudden weakness. "Dear boy, where are you going--and why?"

"I'm g-going far away--because I must--the s-sooner the better!" he whispered, struggling to his elbow to peer into the corner again.

"Yes, the s-sooner the better. But, before I go I want you to promise--to swear, Clo--to s-swear to me--" Barrymaine sat up suddenly and, laying his nervous hands upon her shoulders, leaned down to her in fierce eagerness, "You must s-swear to me n-never to see or have anything to do with that d-devil, Chichester, d' ye hear me, Clo, d' ye hear me?"

"But--oh, Ronald, I don't understand, you always told me he was your friend, I thought--"

"Friend!" cried Barrymaine pa.s.sionately. "He's a devil, I tell you he's a d-devil, oh--" Barrymaine choked and fell back gasping; but, even as Cleone leaned above him all tender solicitude, he pushed her aside and, springing to his feet, reached out and caught Barnabas by the arm. "Beverley," he cried, "you'll s.h.i.+eld her from him--w-when I'm gone, you'll l-look after her, won't you, Beverley? She's the only thing I ever loved--except my accursed self. You will s.h.i.+eld her from--that d-devil!"

Then, still clutching Barnabas, he turned and seized Cleone's hands.