The shaggy head had slid quite into the room now, bringing after it a short, thick-set person clad after the fashion of a bargeman.
"Yes; what do you want?"
"Might this 'ere be the letter as you come back for,—no offence, but might it?"
"Yes! yes," cried Barrymaine, and, snatching it, he tore it fiercely across and across, and made a gesture as if to fling the fragments into the hearth, then thrust them into his pocket instead. "Here's a shilling for you," said he, turning to the bargeman, "that is—Dig, l-lend me a shilling, I—" Ronald Barrymaine's voice ended abruptly, for he had caught sight of Barnabas sitting in the dingy corner, and now, pushing past Smivvle, he stood staring, his handsome features distorted with sudden fury, his teeth gleaming between his parted lips.
"So it's—you, is it?" he demanded.
"Yes," said Barnabas, and stood up.
"So—you're—back again, are you?"
"Thank you, yes," said Barnabas, "and quite safe!"
"S-safe?"
"As yet," answered Barnabas.