He knew that, to the last, he had been an unyielding, obdurate man; that in the savage terror of his condition he had hardened, rather than relented, to his wife and child; and that the last words which had passed his white lips were curses on them as his enemies.
Mr Haredale had determined to be there, and see it done.

Nothing but the evidence of his own senses could satisfy that gloomy thirst for retribution which had been gathering upon him for so many years.

The locksmith knew this, and when the chimes had ceased to vibrate, hurried away to meet him.
'For these two men,' he said, as he went, 'I can do no more.

Heaven have mercy on them!--Alas! I say I can do no more for them, but whom can I help?
Mary Rudge will have a home, and a firm friend when she most wants one; but Barnaby--poor Barnaby--willing Barnaby--what aid can I render him?
There are many, many men of sense, God forgive me,' cried the honest locksmith, stopping in a narrow count to pass his hand across his eyes, 'I could better afford to lose than Barnaby.

We have always been good friends, but I never knew, till now, how much I loved the lad.' There were not many in the great city who thought of Barnaby that day, otherwise than as an actor in a show which was to take place to-morrow.
But if the whole population had had him in their minds, and had wished his life to be spared, not one among them could have done so with a purer zeal or greater singleness of heart than the good locksmith.
Barnaby was to die.