"No," said Barnabas, and shook his head.
Then, in that moment the Viscount sprang up and, pinning him with his left hand, swung Barnabas savagely to the wall.
"She's mine!" he panted, "mine, I tell you—no one shall take her from me, neither you nor the devil himself. She's mine—mine. Tell me where she is,—speak before I choke you—speak!"
But Barnabas stood rigid and utterly still. Thus, in a while, the griping fingers fell away, the Viscount stepped back, and groaning, bowed his head.
"Oh, Bev," said he, "forgive me, I—I'm mad I think. I want her so and I can't find her. And I had a spill last night—dark road you see, and only one hand,—and I'm not quite myself in consequence. I'll go—"
But, as he turned toward the door, Barnabas interposed.
"Dick, I can't let you go like this—what do you intend to do?"
"Will you tell me where she is?"
"No, but—"
"Then, sir, my further movements need not concern you."