The Amateur Gentleman

"I think," said Barnabas, putting away his watch, "yes, I think I

shall."

"The house is called Ashleydown," continued Barrymaine feverishly,

"a b-big house about a m-mile this side the village."

"Ashleydown? I think I've heard mention of it before. But now, you

must come with me, Smivvle is downstairs, you shall have my rooms

to-night."

"Thanks, Beverley, but do you m-mind--giving me your arm? I get

f-faint sometimes--my head, I think, the faintness came on me in the

s-street to-night, and I f-fell, I think."

"Indeed, yes, sir," added Mr. Bimby with a little bow, "it was so I

found you, sir."

"Ah, yes, you were kind to me, I remember--you have my g-gratitude,

sir. Now, Beverley, give me your arm, I--I--oh, God help me!"

Barrymaine reached out with clutching fingers, swayed, twisted

sideways and would have fallen, had not Barnabas caught him.

"Poor boy!" cried Mr. Bimby, "a fit, I think--so very young, poor boy!

You'll need help, sir. Oh, poor boy, poor boy!" So saying, the

little gentleman hurried away and presently returned with John and

Mr. Smivvle. Thus, between them, they bore Ronald Barrymaine

downstairs and, having made him as comfortable as might be in the

inner room, left him to the care of the faithful Mr. Smivvle.

Then Barnabas crossed to the narrow window and stood there a while,

looking down at the dim figures of the Bow Street Runners who still

lounged against the wall in the gathering dusk and talked together

in gruff murmurs.

"John," said he at last, "I must trouble you to change coats with me."

Peterby slipped off the garment in question, and aided Barnabas to

put it on.

"Now, your fur cap, John."

"Sir," said Peterby all anxiety in a moment, "you are never thinking

of going out, tonight--it would be madness!"

"Then mad am I. Your cap, John."

"But--if you are arrested--"

"He will be a strong man who stays me tonight, John. Give me your cap."

So Peterby brought the fur cap and, putting it on, Barnabas pulled

it low down over his brows and turned to the door. But there Peterby

stayed him.

"Sir," he pleaded, "let me go for you."

"No," said Barnabas, shaking his head.

"Then let me go with you," "Impossible, John."

"Why?"

"Because," answered Barnabas, grim-lipped, "tonight I go to ride

another race, a very long, hard race, and oh, John Peterby--my

faithful John, if you never prayed before--pray now, that I may win!"

"Sir," said Peterby, "I will!"

Then Barnabas caught his hand, wrung it, and striding from the room,

hurried away down the dark and narrow stair.