The Amateur Gentleman

Barnabas followed the Captain along a somewhat gloomy hall, up a

narrow and winding staircase, and here, halfway up, was a small

landing with an alcove where stood a tall, wizen-faced clock with

skeleton hands and a loud, insistent, very deliberate tick; so, up

more stairs to another hall, also somewhat gloomy, and a door which

the pale-eyed, smiling person obligingly opened, and, having ushered

them into a handsomely furnished chamber, disappeared. The Captain

crossed to the hearth, and standing before the empty grate, put up

his hand and loosened his high stock with suddenly petulant fingers,

rather as though he found some difficulty in breathing; and, looking

at him, Barnabas saw that the debonair Slingsby had vanished quite;

in his place was another--a much older man, haggard of eye, with a

face peaked, and gray, and careworn beneath the brim of the jaunty

hat.

"My dear Beverley," said he, staring down into the empty grate,

"if you 're ever in need--if you're ever reduced to--destitution,

then, in heaven's name, go quietly away and--starve! Deuced

unpleasant, of course, but it's--sooner over, b'gad!"

At this moment the smiling person reappeared at a different door,

and uttered the words: "Captain Slingsby,--if you please." Hereupon the Captain visibly

braced himself, squared his shoulders, took off his hat, crossed the

room in a couple of strides, and Barnabas was alone.

Now as he sat there waiting, he gradually became aware of a sound

that stole upon the quiet, a soft, low sound, exactly what he could

not define, nevertheless it greatly perturbed him. Therefore he rose,

and approaching that part of the room whence it proceeded, he saw

another door. And then, all at once, as he stood before this door,

he knew what the sound was, and why it had so distressed him; and,

even as the knowledge came, he opened the door and stepped into the

room beyond.

And this is what he saw: A bare little room, or office; the pale, smiling gentleman, who

lounged in a cushioned chair, a comb in one hand, and in the other a

small pocket mirror, by the aid of which he was attending to a

diminutive tuft of flaxen whisker; and a woman, in threadbare

garments, who crouched upon a bench beside the opposite wall, her

face bowed upon her hands, her whole frame shaken by great,

heart-broken, gasping sobs,--a sound full of misery, and of

desolation unutterable.

At the opening of the door, the pale gentleman started and turned,

and the woman looked up with eyes swollen and inflamed by weeping.

"Sir," said the pale gentleman, speaking softly, yet in the tone of

one used to command, "may I ask what this intrusion means?" Now as

he looked into the speaker's pallid eyes, Barnabas saw that he was

much older than he had thought. He had laid aside the comb and mirror,

and now rose in a leisurely manner, and his smile was more

unpleasant than ever as he faced Barnabas.