The Amateur Gentleman

"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 gratitude, 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 cushioned 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."

"Yes, Mr. Beverley?"

"I have undertaken to--liquidate his debts."

"Yes, Mr. Beverley."

"To pay--whatever he may owe, both principal and interest."

"Indeed, Mr. Beverley! And--his name?"

"His name is Ronald Barrymaine."

"Ronald--Barrymaine!" There was a pause between the words, and the

smooth, soft voice had suddenly grown so harsh, so deep and vibrant,

that it seemed incredible the words could have proceeded from the

lips of the motionless figure lolling in the chair with his face in

the shadow and the knife glittering behind him.

"I have made out to you a draft for more than enough, as I judge, to

cover Mr. Barrymaine's liabilities."

"For how much, sir?"

"Twenty-two thousand pounds."

Then Jasper Gaunt stirred, sighed, and leaned forward in his chair.

"A handsome sum, sir,--a very handsome sum, but--" and he smiled and

shook his head.