The Amateur Gentleman

Mr. Chichester's voice was as soft as ever, but, as he turned away,

the sleeping youth started and groaned beneath the sudden movement

of that vicious foot.

And now Mr. Chichester stooped, and taking the pistols, one by one,

examined flint and priming with attentive eye, which done, he

crossed to a darkened window and, bursting open the rotting shutter,

knelt and levelled one of the weapons, steadying his wrist upon the

sill; then, nodding as though satisfied, he laid the pistols upon

the floor within easy reach, and drew out his watch.

Slowly the sun declined, and slowly the shadows lengthened about

Oakshott's Barn, as they had done many and many a time before; a

rabbit darted across the clearing, a blackbird called to his mate in

the thicket, but save for this, nothing stirred; a great quiet was

upon the place, a stillness so profound that Barnabas could

distinctly hear the scutter of a rat in the shadows behind him, and

the slow, heavy breathing of the sleeper down below. And ever that

crouching figure knelt beside the broken shutter, very silent, very

still, and very patient.

But all at once, as he watched, Barnabas saw the rigid figure grow

suddenly alert, saw the right arm raised slowly, stealthily, saw the

pistol gleam as it was levelled across the sill; for now, upon the

quiet rose a sound faint and far, yet that grew and ever grew, the

on-coming rustle of leaves.

Then, even as Barnabas stared down wide-eyed, the rigid figure

started, the deadly pistol-hand wavered, was snatched back, and

Mr. Chichester leapt to his feet. He stood a moment hesitating as

one at a sudden loss, then crossing to the unconscious form of

Barrymaine, he set the pistol under his lax hand, turned, and

vanished into the shadow.

Thereafter, from the rear of the barn, came the sound of a blow and

the creak of a rusty hinge, quickly followed by a rustle of leaves

that grew fainter and fainter, and so was presently gone. Then

Barnabas rose, and coming to the window, peered cautiously out, and

there, standing before the barn surveying its dilapidation with round,

approving eyes, his nobbly stick beneath his arm, his high-crowned,

broad-brimmed hat upon his head, was Mr. Shrig.