How Barnabas Came to Oakshott's Barn

"Ah!" he exclaimed, softly; and thereafter the two eyed each other
in an ominous silence.

"And who the devil are you?" he inquired at length, his eyes still
intent.

"Sir," said Barnabas, yet leaning in the doorway--"your name I think,
is Chichester?"

"Well?"

"Permit me to return your coat button!" and Barnabas held out the
article in question, but Mr. Chichester never so much as glanced at
it.

"What do you want here?" he demanded, soft of voice.

"To tell you that this dismal place is called Oakshott's Barn, sir."

"Well?"

"To warn you that Oakshott's Barn is an unhealthy place--for your
sort, sir."

"Ha!" said Mr. Chichester, his heavy-lidded eyes unwinking,
"do you threaten?"

"Let us rather say--I warn!"

"So you do threaten!"

"I warn!" repeated Barnabas.

"To the devil with you and your warning!" All this time neither of
them had moved or raised his voice, only Mr. Chichcster's thin,
curving nostrils began to twitch all at once, while his eyes gleamed
beneath their narrowed lids. But now Barnabas stepped clear of the
doorway, the heavy stick swinging in his hand.

"Then, sir," said he, "let me advise. Let me advise you to hurry
from this solitude."

Mr. Chichester laughed--a low, rippling laugh.

"Ah!" said he, "ah, so that's it!"

"Yes," nodded Barnabas, shifting his gaze to Mr. Chichester's right
hand, a white beringed hand, whose long, slender fingers toyed with
the seals that dangled at his fob, "so pray take up your button and
go!"

Mr. Chichester glanced at the heavy stick; at the powerful hand, the
broad shoulders and resolute face of him who held it, and laughed
again, and, laughing, bowed.