"Yes," said Barnabas gently, "but what of Cleone?"
"Cleone? Oh, God help me, Beverley, she's going to g-give herself to that devil—to buy his silence!"
"What—what," stammered Barnabas. "What do you mean?"
"I got this to-day—read it and see!" said Barrymaine and drew from his bosom a crumpled letter. Then Barnabas took it, and smoothing it out, read these words:
Ronald dear, I'm sorry I didn't let you kiss me good-by. So sorry that I am going to do all that a woman can to save you. Mr. Chichester has learned your awful secret, and I am the price of his silence. So, because of my promise to our dying mother, and because life can hold nothing for me now, because life and death are alike to me now, I am going to marry him to-night, at his house at Headcorn. Good-by, Ronald dear, and that God may forgive and save you in this life and hereafter, is the undying prayer of
Your Sister,
CLEONE.
Barnabas refolded the letter and, giving it back to Barrymaine, took out Natty Bell's great silver watch.
"It is a long way to Headcorn," said he, "I must start at once!"
"Ah! You'll g-go then, Beverley?"
"Go? Of course!"