But if you ever loved
your unfortunate brother, do not fail him in this, Cleone.
Your loving, but desperate,
RONALD BARRYMAINE.
Having read this effusion twice over, and very carefully, Barnabas
was yet staring at the last line with its scrawling signature, all
unnecessary curls and flourishes, when he heard a slight sound in
the adjacent box, and turning sharply, was just in time to see the
top of a hat ere it vanished behind the curtain above the partition.
Therefore he sat very still, waiting. And lo! after the lapse of
half a minute, or thereabouts, it reappeared, slowly and by
degrees--a beaver hat, something the worse for wear. Slowly it rose
up over the curtain--the dusty crown, the frayed band, the curly brim,
and eventually a pair of bold, black eyes that grew suddenly very
wide as they met the unwinking gaze of Barnabas. Hereupon the lips,
as yet unseen, vented a deep sigh, and, thereafter, uttered these
words:
"The same, and yet, curse me, the nose!--y-e-s, the nose seems, on
closer inspection, a trifle too aquiline, perhaps; and the
chin--y-e-s, decidedly a thought too long! And yet--!" Here another
sigh, and the face rising into full view, Barnabas recognized the
bewhiskered gentleman he had noticed in the yard.
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