when, sir,' said the locksmith after a pause, 'has this uneasy
feeling been upon you?'

Mr Haredale hesitated for some moments, and then replied: 'Since the
night of the storm. In short, since the last nineteenth of March.'

As though he feared that Varden might express surprise, or reason with
him, he hastily went on:

'You will think, I know, I labour under some delusion. Perhaps I do. But
it is not a morbid one; it is a wholesome action of the mind, reasoning
on actual occurrences. You know the furniture remains in Mrs Rudge's
house, and that it has been shut up, by my orders, since she went away,
save once a-week or so, when an old neighbour visits it to scare away
the rats. I am on my way there now.'

'For what purpose?' asked the locksmith.

'To pass the night there,' he replied; 'and not to-night alone, but many
nights. This is a secret which I trust to you in case of any unexpected
emergency. You will not come, unless in case of strong necessity, to me;
from dusk to broad day I shall be there. Emma, your daughter, and the
rest, suppose me out of London, as I have been until within this hour.
Do not undeceive them. This is the errand I am bound upon. I know I may
confide it to you, and I rely upon your questioning me no more at this
time.'

With that, as if to change the theme, he led the astounded locksmith
back to the night of the Maypole highwayman, to the robbery of Edward
Chester, to the reappearance of the man at Mrs Rudge's house, and to all
the strange circumstances which afterwards occurred. He even asked him
carelessly about the man's height, his face, his figure, whether he was
like any one he had ever seen--like Hugh, for instance, or any man he
had known at any time--and put many questions of that sort, which the
locksmith, considering them as mere devices to engage his attention and
prevent his expressing the astonishment he felt, answered pretty much at
random.

At length, they arrived at the corner of the street in which the house
stood, where Mr Haredale, alighting, dismissed the coach. 'If you desire
to see me safely lodged,' he said, turning to the locksmith with a
gloomy smile, 'you can.'

Gabriel, to whom all former marvels had been nothing in comparison
with this, followed him along the narrow pavement in silence. When they
reached the door, Mr Haredale softly opened it with a key he had about
him, and closing it when Varden entered, they were left in thorough
darkness.

They gro