But, though hounded by the law, I couldn't go
without knowing precisely how you were--without bidding you
good-by--without endeavoring to thank you--to thank you for poor
Barry's sake and my own, and also to return--"
"Come in," said Barnabas, stretching out his hand, "pray come
in--through the window if you can manage it."
In an instant Mr. Smivvle was astride the sill, but paused there to
glance about him and twist a whisker in dubious fingers.
"Coast clear?" he inquired. "I've been hanging about the place for a
week hoping to see you, but by Gad, Beverley, you're so surrounded
by watchful angels--especially one in an Indian shawl, that I didn't
dare disturb you, but--"
"Pooh, nonsense--come in, man!" said Barnabas. "Come in, I want your
help--"
"My help, Oh Gemini!" and, with the word, Mr. Smivvle was in the room.
"My help?" he repeated. "Oh Jupiter--only say the word, my dear
fellow."
"Why, then, I want you to aid me to dress."
"Dress? Eh, what, Beverley--get up, is it?"
"Yes. Pray get me my clothes--in the press yonder, I fancy."
"Certainly, my dear fellow, but are you strong enough?" inquired
Mr.
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