It needed but a glance at the huddled figure in the comfortless
little attic to assure Barnabas of the identity of Mr. Bimby's
"poor young friend"; wherefore, setting down the candle on the
broken table, he crossed the room and touched that desolate figure
with a gentle hand.
Then Ronald Barrymaine looked up and, seeing Barnabas, struggled to
his knees: "Beverley!" he exclaimed, "oh, thank God! You'll save her from that
d-devil--I tried to kill him, b-but he was too quick for me. But
you--you'll save her!"
"What do you mean? Is it Cleone? What do you mean--speak!" said
Barnabas, beginning to tremble.
"Yes, yes!" muttered Barrymaine, passing a hand across his brow.
"Listen then! Chichester knows--he knows, I tell you! He came to me,
three days ago I think--while D-Dig was out, and he talked and talked,
and questioned me and questioned me, and s-so I--I told him
everything--everything! But I had to, Beverley, I had to--he made
me--yes he, Jasper Gaunt. So I told C-Chichester everything and
then--he laughed, and I t-tried to k-kill him, but he got away and
left me alone with--him. He's always near me now--always c-close
behind me where I can't quite s-see him, only sometimes I hear him
ch-choke, oh, my God, Beverley!--like he did--that night! I r-ran
away to escape him but--oh Beverley!--he's followed me, he was here
a moment ago--I heard him, I t-tell you! Oh, Beverley, don't l-look
as if you thought me m-mad, I'm not! I'm not! I know it's all an
illusion, of c-course, but--"
"Yes," said Barnabas gently, "but what of Cleone?"
"Cleone? Oh, God help me, Beverley, she's going to g-give herself to
that devil--to buy his silence!"
"What--what," stammered Barnabas. "What do you mean?"
"I got this to-day--read it and see!" said Barrymaine and drew from
his bosom a crumpled letter. Then Barnabas took it, and smoothing it
out, read these words: Ronald dear, I'm sorry I didn't let you kiss me good-by. So
sorry that I am going to do all that a woman can to save you.
Mr. Chichester has learned your awful secret, and I am the price of
his silence. So, because of my promise to our dying mother, and because
life can hold nothing for me now, because life and death are alike to
me now, I am going to marry him to-night, at his house at Headcorn.
Good-by, Ronald dear, and that God may forgive and save you in this
life and hereafter, is the undying prayer of Your Sister,
CLEONE.
Barnabas refolded the letter and, giving it back to Barrymaine, took
out Natty Bell's great silver watch.
"It is a long way to Headcorn," said he, "I must start at once!"
"Ah! You'll g-go then, Beverley?"
"Go? Of course!"
"Then, oh Beverley, whatever happens--whether you're in time or no,
you'll--k-kill him?"