"Oh, Barry--you're bleeding! By God, he's hit you!"
"Of c-course, Dig--he never m-misses--neither do I--w-watch now, ah!
hold me up, Dig--so! Now, stand away!" But even as Barrymaine, livid
of brow and with teeth hard clenched, steadied himself for the shot,
loud and clear upon the night came the thudding of swift-galloping
horse-hoofs.
And now, for the first time, Barrymaine's gaze left Chichester's face,
and fixed itself upon the open casement instead.
"Ha!" he cried, "here comes G-Gaunt at last, D-Dig, and with his
hangman at his elbow! But he's t-too late, Dig, he's too l-late--I'm
going, but I mean to take our friend--our d-dear friend Chichester
w-with me--look now!"
As he spoke he raised his arm, there came the stunning report of the
pistol, and a puff of blinding smoke; but when it cleared, Mr. Chichester
still stood up rigid in his corner, only, as he stood he lifted his
hand suddenly to his mouth, glanced at his fingers, stared at them
with wide, horrified eyes. Then his pistol clattered to the floor and
he coughed--a hideous, strangling sound, thin and high-pitched.
Coughing still, he took a swift pace forward, striving to speak,
but choked instead, and so choking, sank to his knees.
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