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sharp and cunning ones—where’s he？’
‘In Barnaby’s room；’ rejoined the widow； with a faint smile。
‘Ah！ He’s a knowing blade！’ said Varden； shaking his head。 ‘I
should be sorry to talk secrets before him。 Oh！ He’s a deep
customer。 I’ve no doubt he can read； and write； and cast accounts
if he chooses。 What was that？ Him tapping at the door？’
‘No；’ returned the widow。 ‘It was in the street； I think。 Hark！
Yes。 There again！ ’Tis some one knocking softly at the shutter。
Who can it be！’
They had been speaking in a low tone； for the invalid lay
overhead； and the walls and ceilings being thin and poorly built；
the sound of their voices might otherwise have disturbed his
slumber。 The party without； whoever it was； could have stood
close to the shutter without hearing anything spoken； and； seeing
the light through the chinks and finding all so quiet； might have
been persuaded that only one person was there。
‘Some thief or ruffian maybe；’ said the locksmith。 ‘Give me the
light。’
‘No； no；’ she returned hastily。 ‘Such visitors have never come to
this poor dwelling。 Do you stay here。 You’re within call； at the
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Barnaby Rudge 72
worst。 I would rather go myself—alone。’
‘Why？’ said the locksmith； unwillingly relinquishing the candle
he had caught up from the table。
‘Because—I don’t know why—because the wish is so strong
upon me；’ she rejoined。 ‘There again—do not detain me； I beg of
you！’
Gabriel looked at her； in great surprise to see one who was
usually so mild and quiet thus agitated； and with so little cause。
She left the room and closed the door behind her。 She stood for a
moment as if hesitating； with her hand upon the lock。 In this short
interval the knocking came again； and a voice close to the
window—a voice the locksmith seemed to recollect； and to have
some disagreeable association with—whispered ‘Make haste。’
The words were uttered in that low distinct voice which finds
its way so readily to sleepers’ ears； and wakes them in a fright。 For
a moment it startled even the locksmith； who involuntarily drew
back from the window； and listened。
The wind rumbling in the chimney made it difficult to hear
what passed； but he could tell that the door was opened； that there
was the tread of a man upon the creaking boards； and then a
moment’s silence—broken by a suppressed something which was
not a shriek； or groan； or cry for help； and yet might have been
either or all three； and the words ‘My God！’ uttered in a voice it
chilled him to hear。
He rushed out upon the instant。 There； at last； was that
dreadful look—the very one he seemed to know so well and yet
had never seen before—upon her face。 There she stood； frozen to
the ground； gazing with starting eyes； and livid cheeks； and every
feature fixed and ghastly； upon the man he had encountered in the
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dark last night。 His eyes met those of the locksmith。 It was but a
flash； an instant； a breath upon a polished glass； and he was gone。
The locksmith was upon him—had the skirts of his streaming
garment almost in his grasp—when his arms were tightly
clutched； and the widow flung herself upon the ground before
him。
‘The other way—the other way；’ she cried。 ‘He went the other
way。 Turn—turn！’
‘The other way！ I see him now；’ rejoined the locksmith；
pointing—‘yonder—there—there is his shadow passing by that
light。 What—who is this？ Let me go。’
‘Come back； come back！’ exclaimed the woman； clasping him；
‘Do not touch him on your life。 I charge you； come back。 He carries
other lives besides his own。 Come back！’
‘What does this mean？’ cried the locksmith。
‘No matter what it means； don’t ask； don’t speak； don’t think
about it。 He is not to be followed； checked； or stopped。 Come
back！’
The old man looked at her in wonder； as she writhed and clung
about him； and； borne down by her passion； suffered her to drag
him into the house。 It was not until she had chained and double…
locked the door； fastened every bolt and bar with the heat and fury
of a maniac； and drawn him back into the room； that she turned
upon him； once again； that stony look of horror； and； sinking down
into a chair； covered her face； and shuddered； as though the hand
of death were on her。
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Chapter 6
eyond all measure astonished by the strange occurrences
which had passed with so much violence and rapidity； the
Blocksmith gazed upon the shuddering figure in the chair
like one half stupefied； and would have gazed much longer； had
not his tongue been loosened by compassion and humanity。
‘You are ill；’ said Gabriel。 ‘Let me call some neighbour in。’
‘Not for the world；’ she rejoined； motioning to him with her
trembling hand； and holding her face averted。 ‘It is enough that
you have been by； to see this。’
‘Nay； more than enough—or less；’ said Gabriel。
‘Be it so；’ she returned。 ‘As you like。 Ask me no questions； I
entreat you。’
‘Neighbour；’ said the locksmith； after a pause。 ‘Is this fair； or
reasonable； or just to yourself？ Is it like you； who have known me
so long and sought my advice in all matters—like you； who from a
girl have had a strong mind and a staunch heart？’
‘I have need of them；’ she replied。 ‘I am growing old； both in
years and care。 Perhaps that； and too much trial； have made them
weaker than they used to be。 Do not speak to me。’
‘How