Chichester--indeed he seemed
oblivious to all else under heaven.
"Come, Dig," said he in the same soft voice, "get out the barkers,
and quick about it, d' you hear?"
"But, Barry--oh, my dear fellow, here's poor Beverley, look--look at
him!"
"G-give us the barkers, will you--quick! Oh, damnation. Dig, y-you
know G-Gaunt and his hangman are hard on my heels! Quick, then, and
g-get it over and done with--d'you hear, D-Dig?" So saying,
Barrymaine crossed to the hearth and stood there, warming his hands
at the blaze, but, even so, he must needs turn his head so that he
could keep his gloating eyes always directed to Chichester's pale
face.
"I'm w-warming my pistol-hand, Dig," he continued, "mustn't be cold
or s-stiff tonight, you see. Oh, I tell you the luck's with me at
last! He's b-been so vastly clever, Dig! He's dragged me down to hell,
but--tonight I'm g-going to-take him with me."
And ever as he spoke, warming himself at the fire, Ronald Barrymaine
kept his burning gaze upon Mr. Chichester's pale face, while
Barnabas leaned, twisted in his chair, and Mr. Smivvle busied
himself with the oblong box. With shaking hands he took out the
duelling-pistols, one by one, and laid them on the table.
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