"By Gad, Beverley!" he exclaimed in a shaken voice, "are you mad?"
"No," said Barnabas, "but I came here to buy those bills, and buy them I will! If trebling it isn't enough, then—"
"Ah!" cried Slingsby, pointing to the usurer's distorted face, "can't you see? Don't you guess? He can't sell! No money-lender of 'em all could resist such an offer. I tell you he daren't sell, the bills aren't his! Come away—"
"Not his!" cried Barnabas, "then whose?"
"God knows! But it's true,—look at him!"
"Tell me," cried Barnabas, striving to see Gaunt's averted eyes, "tell me who holds these bills,—if you have one spark of generosity—tell me!"
But Jasper Gaunt gave no sign, only the writhing fingers crept across his face, over staring eyes and twitching lips.
So, presently, Barnabas suffered Captain Slingsby to lead him from the room, and down the somewhat dark and winding stair, past the wizen-faced clock, out into the street already full of the glow of evening.
"It's a wonder to me," said the Captain, "yes, it's a great wonder to me, that nobody has happened to kill Gaunt before now."
So the Captain frowned, sighed, and climbed up to his seat. But, when Barnabas would have followed, Billy Button touched him on the arm.