Smivvle caught his wrist, the bottle crashed
splintering to the floor, and they were locked in a fierce grapple.
"Beverley--my dear fellow--go!" panted Mr. Smivvle, "must
forgive--poor Barry--not himself. Go--go,--I can--manage him. Now
Barry, do be calm! Go, my dear fellow--leave him to me--go!" So,
perforce, Barnabas turned away and went down the dingy stairs, and
in his ears was the echo of the boy's drunken ravings and Mr.
Chichester's soft laughter.
And presently, being come into the dingy street, Barnabas paused to
look up at the dingy house, and looking, sighed.
"She said it would be 'difficult, and dangerous, perhaps,'" said he
to himself, "and indeed I think she was right."
Then he turned and went upon his way, heavy-footed and chin on breast.
On he went, plunged in gloomy abstraction, turning corners at random,
lost to all but the problem he had set himself, which was this:
How he might save Ronald Barrymaine in spite of Ronald Barrymaine.
CHAPTER XXXI
WHICH DESCRIBES SOME OF THE EVILS OF VINDICTIVENESS
Barnabas stumbled suddenly, dropped his cane, saw his hat spin
through the air and roll on before him; staggered sideways, was
brought up by a wall, and turning, found three men about him,
--evil-faced men whose every move and look held a menace.
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