"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.