stairs was
partially opened; and a head appeared, which, at sight of him, hastily
drew back again.

'I wish,' murmured Gabriel, waking at the noise, and looking round
the room, 'I wish somebody would marry Miggs. But that's impossible! I
wonder whether there's any madman alive, who would marry Miggs!'

This was such a vast speculation that he fell into a doze again, and
slept until the fire was quite burnt out. At last he roused himself; and
having double-locked the street-door according to custom, and put the
key in his pocket, went off to bed.

He had not left the room in darkness many minutes, when the head again
appeared, and Sim Tappertit entered, bearing in his hand a little lamp.

'What the devil business has he to stop up so late!' muttered Sim,
passing into the workshop, and setting it down upon the forge. 'Here's
half the night gone already. There's only one good that has ever come to
me, out of this cursed old rusty mechanical trade, and that's this piece
of ironmongery, upon my soul!'

As he spoke, he drew from the right hand, or rather right leg pocket of
his smalls, a clumsy large-sized key, which he inserted cautiously in
the lock his master had secured, and softly opened the door. That done,
he replaced his piece of secret workmanship in his pocket; and leaving
the lamp burning, and closing the door carefully and without noise,
stole out into the street--as little suspected by the locksmith in his
sound deep sleep, as by Barnaby himself in his phantom-haunted dreams.

Chapter 8

Clear of the locksmith's house, Sim Tappertit laid aside his cautious
manner, and assuming in its stead that of a ruffling, swaggering, roving
blade, who would rather kill a man than otherwise, and eat him too if
needful, made the best of his way along the darkened streets.

Half pausing for an instant now and then to smite his pocket and assure
himself of the safety of his master key, he hurried on to Barbican, and
turning into one of the narrowest of the narrow streets which diverged
from that centre, slackened his pace and wiped his heated brow, as if
the termination of his walk were near at hand.

It was not a very choice spot for midnight expeditions, being in truth
one of more than questionable character, and of an appearance by no
means inviting. From the main street he had entered, itself little
better than an alley, a low-browed doorway led into a blind court, or
yard, profoundly dark, unpaved, and reeki