Slowly the sun declined, and slowly the shadows lengthened about
Oakshott's Barn, as they had done many and many a time before; a
rabbit darted across the clearing, a blackbird called to his mate in
the thicket, but save for this, nothing stirred; a great quiet was
upon the place, a stillness so profound that Barnabas could
distinctly hear the scutter of a rat in the shadows behind him, and
the slow, heavy breathing of the sleeper down below. And ever that
crouching figure knelt beside the broken shutter, very silent, very
still, and very patient.
But all at once, as he watched, Barnabas saw the rigid figure grow
suddenly alert, saw the right arm raised slowly, stealthily, saw the
pistol gleam as it was levelled across the sill; for now, upon the
quiet rose a sound faint and far, yet that grew and ever grew, the
on-coming rustle of leaves.
Then, even as Barnabas stared down wide-eyed, the rigid figure
started, the deadly pistol-hand wavered, was snatched back, and
Mr. Chichester leapt to his feet. He stood a moment hesitating as
one at a sudden loss, then crossing to the unconscious form of
Barrymaine, he set the pistol under his lax hand, turned, and
vanished into the shadow.
Pages:
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629