"It is as I feared. The very man was here to-night," thought the locksmith, changing colour. "What dark history is this!"
"Halloa!" cried a hoarse voice in his ear. "Halloa, halloa, halloa! Bow wow wow. What"s the matter here! Hal-loa!"
The speaker--who made the locksmith start as if he had been some supernatural agent--was a large raven, who had perched upon the top of the easy-chair, unseen by him and Edward, and listened with a polite attention and a most extraordinary appearance of comprehending every word, to all they had said up to this point; turning his head from one to the other, as if his office were to judge between them, and it were of the very last importance that he should not lose a word.
"Look at him!" said Varden, divided between admiration of the bird and a kind of fear of him. "Was there ever such a knowing imp as that! Oh he"s a dreadful fellow!"
The raven, with his head very much on one side, and his bright eye shining like a diamond, preserved a thoughtful silence for a few seconds, and then replied in a voice so hoarse and distant, that it seemed to come through his thick feathers rather than out of his mouth.
"Halloa, halloa, halloa! What"s the matter here! Keep up your spirits. Never say die. Bow wow wow. I"m a devil, I"m a devil, I"m a devil. Hurrah!"--And then, as if exulting in his infernal character, he began to whistle.
"I more than half believe he speaks the truth. Upon my word I do," said Varden. "Do you see how he looks at me, as if he knew what I was saying?"
To which the bird, balancing himself on tiptoe, as it were, and moving his body up and down in a sort of grave dance, rejoined, "I"m a devil, I"m a devil, I"m a devil," and flapped his wings against his sides as if he were bursting with laughter. Barnaby clapped his hands, and fairly rolled upon the ground in an ecstasy of delight.
"Strange companions, sir," said the locksmith, shaking his head, and looking from one to the other. "The bird has all the wit."
"Strange indeed!" said Edward, holding out his forefinger to the raven, who, in acknowledgment of the attention, made a dive at it immediately with his iron bill. "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. He"s the master, and I"m the man. Is that the truth, Grip?"
The raven gave a short, comfortable, confidential kind of croak;--a most expressive croak, which seemed to say, "You needn"t let these fellows into our secrets. We understand each other. It"s all right."
"I make HIM come?" cried Barnaby, pointing to the bird. "Him, who never goes to sleep, or so much as winks!--Why, any time of night, you may see his eyes in my dark room, shining like two sparks. And every night, and all night too, he"s broad awake, talking to himself, thinking what he shall do to-morrow, where we shall go, and what he shall steal, and hide, and bury. I make HIM come! Ha ha ha!"
On second thoughts, the bird appeared disposed to come of himself.