"The other way--the other way!" she cried. "Do not touch him, on your life! He carries other lives besides his own. Don't ask what it means. He is not to be followed or stopped! Come back!"
"The other way!" said the locksmith. "Why, there he goes!"
The old man looked at her in wonder, and let her draw him into the house. Still that look of terror was on her face, as she implored him not to question her.
Presently she withdrew, and left him in his perplexity alone, and Barnaby came in.
"I have been asleep," said the idiot, with widely opened eyes. "There have been great faces coming and going--close to my face, and then a mile away. That's sleep, eh? I dreamed just now that something--it was in the shape of a man--followed me and wouldn't let me be. It came creeping on to worry me, nearer and nearer. I ran faster, leaped, sprang out of bed and to the window, and there in the street below--"
"Halloa, halloa, halloa! Bow, wow, wow!" cried a hoarse voice. "What's the matter here? Halloa!"
The locksmith started, and there was Grip, a large raven, Barnaby's close companion, perched on the top of a chair.
"Halloa, halloa, halloa! Keep up your spirits! Never say die!" the bird went on, in a hoarse voice. "Bow, wow, wow!" And then he began to whistle.
The locksmith said "Good-night," and went his way home, disturbed in thought.
"In league with that ill-looking figure that might have fallen from a gibbet. He listening and hiding here. Barnaby first upon the spot last night. Can she, who has always borne so fair a name, be guilty of such crimes in secret?" said the locksmith, musing. "Heaven forgive me if I am wrong, and send me just thoughts."