WHICH SHOWS SOMETHING OF THE HORRORS OF REMORSE
With this dreadful sound in his ears, Barnabas hurried away from
that place of horror; but ever the sound pursued him, it echoed in
his step, it panted in his quickened breathing, it throbbed in the
pulsing of his heart. Wherever he looked, there always was Jasper
Gaunt lolling in his chair with his head dangling at its horrible
angle,--the very night was full of him.
Hot-foot went Barnabas, by dingy streets and silent houses, and with
his chin now on one shoulder, now on the other; and thus, he
presently found himself before a certain door and, remembering its
faulty catch, tried it but found it fast. Therefore he knocked,
softly at first, but louder and louder until at length the door was
plucked suddenly open and a woman appeared, a slatternly creature
who bore a candle none too steadily.
"Now then, owdacious," she began, somewhat slurring of speech.
"What d'ye want--this time o' night--knocking at 'spectable door of
a person?"
"Is Mr. Barrymaine in?"
"Mist' Barrymaine?" repeated the woman, scattering grease-spots as
she raised the candle in her unsteady hand, "what d'ye wan' this
time o'--"
Here, becoming aware of the magnificence of the visitor's attire,
she dropped Barnabas a floundering curtsy and showered the step with
grease-spots.
"Can I see Mr. Barrymaine?"
"Yes, sir--this way, sir, an' min' the step, sir. See Mist'
Barrymaine, yes, sir, firs' floor--an' would you be so good as to ax
'im to keep 'is feet still, or, as you might say, 'is trotters, sir--"
"His feet?"
"Also 'is legs, sir, if you'd be so very obleeging, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"Come an' listen, sir!" So saying, the woman opened a door and stood
with a finger pointing unsteadily upwards. "Been a-doing of it ever
since 'e came in a hour ago. It ain't loud, p'r'aps, but it's
worriting--very worriting. If 'e wants to dance 'e might move about a
bit 'stead o' keeping in one place all the time--'ark!" And she
pointed with her quavering finger to a certain part of the ceiling
whence came the tramp! tramp! of restless feet; and yet the feet
never moved away.
"I'll go up!" said Barnabas, and, nodding to the slatternly woman,
he hurried along the passage and mounting the dark stair, paused
before a dingy door. Now, setting his ear to the panel, he heard a
sound--a muffled sound, hoarse but continuous, ever and anon rising
to a wail only to sink again, yet never quite ceasing. Then, feeling
the door yield to his hand, Barnabas opened it and, stepping softly
into the room, closed it behind him.
The place was very dark, except where the moon sent a fugitive beam
through the uncurtained window, and face downward across this pale
light lay a huddled figure from whose unseen lips the sounds
issued--long, awful, gasping sobs; a figure that stirred and writhed
like one in torment, whose clenched hands beat themselves upon the
frayed carpet, while, between the sobbing and the beat of those
clenched hands, came broken prayers intermingled with oaths and
moaning protestations.
Barnabas drew a step nearer, and, on the instant, the grovelling
figure started up to an elbow; thus, stooping down, Barnabas looked
into the haggard face of Ronald Barrymaine.
"Beverley!" he gasped, "w-what d'you want? Go away,--l-leave me!"
"No!" said Barnabas, "it is you who must go away--at once. You must
leave London to-night!"
"W-what d' you mean?"
"You must be clear of England by to-morrow night at latest."
Barrymaine stared up at Barnabas wide-eyed and passed his tongue to
and fro across his lips before he spoke again:
"Beverley, w-what d' you--mean?"
"I know why you keep your right hand hidden!" said Barnabas.
Barrymaine shivered suddenly, but his fixed stare never wavered, only,
as he crouched there, striving to speak yet finding no voice, upon
his furrowed brow and pallid cheek ran glittering lines of sweat. At
last he contrived to speak again, but in a whisper now:
"W-what do you mean?"
"I mean that tonight I found this scrap of cloth, and I recognized
it as part of the cuff of your sleeve, and I found it clenched in
Jasper Gaunt's dead hand."
With a hoarse, gasping cry Barrymaine cast himself face down upon
the floor again and writhed there like one in agony.
"I d-didn't mean to--oh, God! I never m-meant it!" he groaned and,
starting to his knees, he caught at Barnabas with wild, imploring
hands: "Oh, Beverley, I s-swear to you I n-never meant to do it.
I went there tonight to l-learn the truth, and he th-threatened
me--threatened me, I tell you, s-so we fought and he was s-strong
and swung me against the w-wall. And then, Beverley--as we
s-struggled--somehow I g-got hold of--of the dagger and struck at
him--b-blindly. And--oh, my God, Beverley--I shall never forget how
he--ch-choked! I can hear it now! But I didn't mean to--do it. Oh, I
s-swear I never meant it, Beverley--s-so help me, God!"
"But he is dead," said Barnabas, "and now--"
"Y-you won't give me up, Beverley?" cried Barrymaine, clinging to
his knees. "I wronged you, I know--n-now, but don't g-give me up.
I'm not afraid to d-die like a g-gentleman should, but--the
gallows--oh, my God!"
"No, you must be saved--from that!"
"Ah--w-will you help me?"
"That is why I came."
"W-what must I do?"
"Start for Dover--to-night."
"Yes--yes, Dover. B-but I have no money."
"Here are twenty guineas, they will help you well on your way. When
they are gone you shall have more."
"Beverley, I--wronged you, but I know now who my c-creditor really
is--I know who has been m-my enemy all along--oh, blind f-fool that
I've been,--but I know--now. And I think it's t-turned my brain.
Beverley,--my head's all confused--wish D-Dig were here. But I shall
be better s-soon. It was D-Dover you said, I think?"
"Yes,--but now, take off that coat."
"B-but it's the only one I've got!"
"You shall have mine," said Barnabas and, throwing aside his cloak,
he stripped off that marvellous garment (whose flattened revers were
never to become the vogue, after all), and laid it upon the table
beside Barrymaine who seemed as he leaned there to be shaken by
strange twitchings and tremblings.
"Oh, Beverley," he muttered, "it would have been a good th-thing for
me if somebody had s-strangled me at birth. No!--d-don't light the
candle!" he cried suddenly, for Barnabas had sought and found the
tinder-box, "don't! d-don't!"
But Barnabas struck and the tinder caught, then, as the light came,
Barrymaine shrank away and away, and, crouching against the wall,
stared down at himself, at his right sleeve ripped and torn, and at
certain marks that spattered and stained him, here and there, awful
marks much darker than the cloth. Now as he looked, a great horror
seemed to come upon him, he trembled violently and, stumbling forward,
sank upon his knees beside the table, hiding his sweating face
between his arms. And, kneeling thus, he uttered soft, strange,
unintelligible noises and the table shook and quivered under him.
"Come, you must take off that coat!"
Very slowly Barrymaine lifted his heavy head and looked at Barnabas
with dilating eyes and with his mouth strangely drawn and twisted.
"Oh, Beverley!" he whispered, "I--I think I'm--"
"You must give me that coat!" persisted Barnabas.
Still upon his knees, Barrymaine began to fumble at the buttons of
that stained, betraying garment but, all at once, his fingers seemed
to grow uncertain, they groped aimlessly, fell away, and he spoke in
a hoarse whisper, while upon his lip was something white, like foam.
"I--oh I--Beverley, I--c-can't!"
And now, all at once, as they stared into each other's eyes,
Barnabas leaning forward, strong and compelling, Barrymaine upon his
knees clinging weakly to the table, sudden and sharp upon the
stillness broke a sound--an ominous sound, the stumble of a foot
that mounted the stair.
Uttering a broken cry Barrymaine struggled up to his feet, strove
desperately to speak, his distorted mouth flecked with foam, and
beating the air with frantic hands pitched over and thudded to the
floor.
Then the door opened and Mr. Smivvle appeared who, calling upon
Barrymaine's name, ran forward and fell upon his knees beside that
convulsed and twisted figure.
"My God, Beverley!" he cried, "how comes he like this--what has
happened?"
"Are you his friend?"
"Yes, yes, his friend--certainly! Haven't I told you the hand of a
Smivvle, sir--"
"Tonight he killed Jasper Gaunt."
"Eh? Killed? Killed him?"
"Murdered him--though I think more by accident than design."
"Killed him! Murdered him!"
"Yes. Pull yourself together and listen. Tomorrow the hue and cry
will be all over London, we must get him away--out of the country if
possible."
"Yes, yes--of course! But he's ill--a fit, I think."
"Have you ever seen him so before?"
"Never so bad as this. There, Barry, there, my poor fellow! Help me
to get him on the couch, will you, Beverley?"
Between them they raised that twitching form; then, as Mr. Smivvle
stooped to set a cushion beneath the restless head, he started
suddenly back, staring wide-eyed and pointing with a shaking finger.
"My God!" he whispered, "what's that? Look--look at his coat."
"Yes," said Barnabas, "we must have it off."
"No, no--it's too awful!" whimpered Mr. Smivvle, shrinking away,
"see--it's--it's all down the front!"
"If this coat is ever found, it will hang him!" said Barnabas.
"Come, help me to get it off."
So between them it was done; thereafter, while Mr. Smivvle crouched
beside that restless, muttering form, Barnabas put on his cloak and,
rolling up the torn coat, hid it beneath its ample folds.
"What, are you going, Beverley?"
"Yes--for one thing to get rid of this coat. On the table are twenty
guineas, take them, and just so soon as Barrymaine is fit to travel,
get him away, but above all, don't--"
"Who is it?" cried Barrymaine suddenly, starting up and peering
wildly over his shoulder, "w-who is it? Oh, I t-tell you there's
s-somebody behind me--who is it?"
"Nobody, Barry--not a soul, my poor boy, compose yourself!" But,
even as Mr. Smivvle spoke, Barrymaine fell back and lay moaning
fitfully and with half-closed eyes. "Indeed I fear he is very ill,
Beverley!"
"If he isn't better by morning, get a doctor," said Barnabas,
"but, whatever you do--keep Chichester away from him. As regards
money I'll see you shan't want for it. And now, for the present,
good-by!"
So saying, Barnabas caught up his hat and, with a last glance at the
moaning figure on the couch, went from the room and down the stairs,
and let himself out into the dingy street.