The Amateur Gentleman

Surprise and something very like disappointment were in Mr. Shrig's

look as Barnabas stepped out from the yawning doorway of the barn.

"V'y, sir," said he, consulting a large-faced watch. "V'y, Mr. Beverley,

it's eggs-actly tventy minutes arter the time for it!"

"Yes," said Barnabas.

"And you--ain't shot, then?"

"No, thank heaven."

"Nor even--vinged?"

"Nor even winged, Mr. Shrig."

"Fate," said Mr. Shrig, shaking a dejected head at him, "Fate is a

werry wexed problem, sir! 'Ere's you now, Number Three, as I might

say, the unfort'nate wictim as was to be--'ere you are a-valking up

to Fate axing to be made a corp', and vot do you get? not so much as

a scrat--not a westige of a scrat, v'ile another unfort'nate wictim

vill run avay from Fate, run? ah! 'eaven's 'ard! and werry nat'ral

too! and vot does 'e get? 'e gets made a corp' afore 'e knows it. No,

sir, Fate's a werry wexed problem, sir, and I don't understand it,

no, nor ever shall."

"But this was very simple," said Barnabas, slipping his hand in

Mr. Shrig's arm, and leading him away from the barn, "very simple

indeed, I got here before they came, and hid in the loft. Then,

while they were waiting for me down below, you came and frightened

them away."

"Ah! So they meant business, did they?"

"Yes," said Barnabas, nodding grimly, "they certainly meant business,

--especially Mr. Chich--"

"Ssh!" said Mr. Shrig, glancing round, "call 'im Number Two. Sir,

Number Two is a extra-special, super-fine, over-weight specimen, 'e

is. I've knowed a many 'Capitals' in my time, but I never knowed

such a Capital o' Capital Coves as 'im. Sir, Vistling Dick vas a

innercent, smiling babe, and young B. is a snowy, pet lamb alongside

o' Number Two. Capital Coves like 'im only 'appen, and they only

'appen every thousand year or so. Ecod! I 'm proud o' Number Two.

And talking of 'im, I 'appened to call on Nick the Cobbler, last

night."

"Oh?"

"Ah! and I found 'im vith 'is longest awl close 'andy--all on

account o' Number Two."

"How on his account?" demanded Barnabas, frowning suddenly.

"Vell, last evening, Milo o' Crotona, a pal o' Nick's, and a werry

promising bye 'e is too, 'appened to drop in sociable-like, and it

seems as Number Two followed 'im. And werry much Number Two

frightened that 'andsome gal, by all accounts. She wrote you a letter,

vich she give me to deliver, and--'ere it is."

So Barnabas took the letter and broke the seal. It was a very short

letter, but as he read Barnabas frowned blacker than ever.

"Mr. Shrig," said he very earnestly as he folded and pocketed the

letter, "will you do something for me--will you take a note to my

servant, John Peterby? You'll find him at the 'Oak and Ivy' in

Hawkhurst village."