Barnaby too--he was listening.
-- 'Some mad or drunken fellow, sir,' Varden at length made answer, looking steadily at the widow as he spoke.

'He mistook the house, and tried to force an entrance.' She breathed more freely, but stood quite motionless.

As the locksmith said 'Good night,' and Barnaby caught up the candle to light him down the stairs, she took it from him, and charged him--with more haste and earnestness than so slight an occasion appeared to warrant--not to stir.
The raven followed them to satisfy himself that all was right below, and when they reached the street-door, stood on the bottom stair drawing corks out of number.
With a trembling hand she unfastened the chain and bolts, and turned the key.

As she had her hand upon the latch, the locksmith said in a low voice, 'I have told a lie to-night, for your sake, Mary, and for the sake of bygone times and old acquaintance, when I would scorn to do so for my own.

I hope I may have done no harm, or led to none.