'Is he old ?' 'A mere boy, sir,' replied the locksmith.

'A hundred and twenty, or thereabouts.

Call him down, Barnaby, my man.' 'Call him!' echoed Barnaby, sitting upright upon the floor, and staring vacantly at Gabriel, as he thrust his hair back from his face.

'But who can make him come! He calls me, and makes me go where he will.

He goes on before, and I follow.