She left the room, and Varden heard the sound of whispers without. Then
the words "My God!" came, tittered in a voice dreadful to hear.

Varden rushed out. A look of terror was on the woman's face, and before
her stood a man, of sinister appearance, whom the locksmith had passed
on the road from Chigwell the previous night.

The man fled, but the locksmith was after him and would have held him
but for the widow, who clutched his arms.

"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--"