And, after a while, Barnabas found voice, though his voice was very
hoarse and uneven.
"I think," said he slowly, "yes, I think my cane could not have a
worthier end than splintering on your villain's back, Mr. Quigly."
But, even as Barnabas advanced with very evident purpose, a tall
figure stood framed in the open doorway.
"Ah, Quigly,--pray what is all this?" a chill, incisive voice
demanded. Barnabas turned, and lowering the cane, stood looking
curiously at the speaker. A tall, slender man he was, with a face
that might have been any age,--a mask-like face, smooth and long,
and devoid of hair as it was of wrinkles; an arresting face, with
its curving nostrils, thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, high, prominent
brow, and small, piercingly-bright eyes; quick eyes, that glinted
between their red-rimmed, hairless lids, old in their experience of
men and the ways of men. For the rest, he was clad in a rich yet
sober habit, unrelieved by any color save for the gleaming seals at
his fob, and the snowy lace at throat and wrist; his hair--evidently
a wig--curled low on either cheek, and his hands were well cared for,
with long, prehensile fingers.
"You are Jasper Gaunt, I think?" said Barnabas at last.
"At your service, sir, and you, I know, are Mr. Barnabas Beverley."
So they stood, fronting each other, the Youth, unconquered as yet,
and therefore indomitable, and the Man, with glittering eyes old in
their experience of men and the ways of men.
"You wished to see me on a matter of business, Mr. Beverley?"
"Yes."
"Then pray step this way."
"No," said Barnabas, "first I require your signature to this lady's
papers."
Jasper Gaunt smiled, and shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"Such clients as this, sir,--I leave entirely to Mr. Quigly."
"Then, in this instance, sir, you will perhaps favor me by giving
the matter your personal attention!"
Jasper Gaunt hesitated, observed the glowing eye, flushed cheek,
and firm-set lips of the speaker, and being wise in men and their
ways,--bowed.
"To oblige you, Mr. Beverley, with pleasure. Though I understand
from Mr. Quigly that she is unable to meet--"
"Seventy-eight pounds, sir! She can pay it all--every blood-stained,
tear-soaked farthing. She should meet it were it double--treble the
sum!" said Barnabas, opening his purse.
"Ah, indeed, I see! I see!" nodded Jasper Gaunt. "Take the money,
Quigly, I will make out the receipt. If you desire, you shall see me
sign it, Mr. Beverley." So saying, he crossed to the desk, wrote the
document, and handed it to Barnabas, with a bow that was almost
ironical.
Then Barnabas gave the precious paper into the woman's eager fingers,
and looked down into the woman's shining eyes.
"Sir," said she between trembling lips, "I cannot thank you,--I--I
cannot. But God sees, and He will surely repay."