And now, as he fronted that deadly barrel, Mr. Chichester's face
grew suddenly livid, and haggard, and old-looking, while upon his
brow the sweat had started and rolled down, glistening upon his
cheeks.
The fire crackled upon the hearth, the clock ticked softly in the
corner, the table creaked as Barnabas leaned his weight across it,
nearer and nearer, but, save for this, the place was very quiet. Then,
all at once, upon this silence broke another sound, a distant sound
this, but one that grew ever nearer and louder--the grind of wheels
and the hoof-strokes of madly galloping horses. Mr. Chichester
uttered a gasping cry and pointed towards the window--
"Cleone!" he whispered. "It's Cleone! She's coming, in God's
name--wait!"
The galloping hoofs drew rapidly nearer, stopped suddenly, and as
Barnabas, hesitating, glanced towards the window, it was flung wide
and somebody came leaping through--a wild, terrible figure; and as
he turned in the light of the candles, Barnabas looked into the
distorted face of Ronald Barrymaine.
For a moment he stood, his arms dangling, his head bent, his
glowing eyes staring at Mr.
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