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questions?'

'Certainly not,' replied Julia; 'and if you can make me
understand why Morris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a

barrel containing specimens for a friend, I shall be grateful
till my dying day. And what are specimens for a friend?'

'I haven't a guess,' said Gideon. 'Specimens are usually bits of
stone, but rather smaller than our friend the monument. Still,

that is not the point. Are you quite alone in this big house?'
'Yes, I am at present,' returned Julia. 'I came up before them to

prepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn't get
one I liked.'

'Then you are utterly alone,' said Gideon in amazement. 'Are you
not afraid?'

'No,' responded Julia stoutly. 'I don't see why I should be more
afraid than you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I

found I must sleep alone in the house I bought a revolver
wonderfully cheap, and made the man show me how to use it.'

'And how do you use it?' demanded Gideon, much amused at her
courage.

'Why,' said she, with a smile, 'you pull the little trigger thing
on top, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you

fire, you pull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes
off as well as if a man had done it.'

'And how often have you used it?' asked Gideon.
'O, I have not used it yet,' said the determined young lady; 'but

I know how, and that makes me wonderfullycourageous, especially
when I barricade my door with a chest of drawers.'

'I'm awfully glad they are coming back soon,' said Gideon. 'This
business strikes me as excessively unsafe; if it goes on much

longer, I could provide you with a maiden aunt of mine, or my
landlady if you preferred.'

'Lend me an aunt!' cried Julia. 'O, what generosity! I begin to
think it must have been you that sent the Hercules.'

'Believe me,' cried the young man, 'I admire you too much to send
you such an infamous work of art..'

Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a
knocking at the door.

'O, Mr Forsyth!'
'Don't be afraid, my dear girl,' said Gideon, laying his hand

tenderly on her arm.
'I know it's the police,' she whispered. 'They are coming to

complain about the statue.'
The knock was repeated. It was louder than before, and more

impatient.
'It's Morris,' cried Julia, in a startled voice, and she ran to

the door and opened it.
It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of

ordinary days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with
bloodshot eyes, and a two-days' beard upon his chin.

'The barrel!' he cried. 'Where's the barrel that came this
morning?' And he stared about the lobby, his eyes, as they fell

upon the legs of Hercules, literally goggling in his head. 'What
is that?' he screamed. 'What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool!

What is that? And where's the barrel--the water-butt?'
'No barrel came, Morris,' responded Julia coldly. 'This is the

only thing that has arrived.'
'This!' shrieked the miserable man. 'I never heard of it!'

'It came addressed in your hand,' replied Julia; 'we had nearly
to pull the house down to get it in, that is all that I can tell

you.'
Morris gazed at her in utter bewilderment. He passed his hand

over his forehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to
faint. Then his tongue was loosed, and he overwhelmed the girl

with torrents of abuse. Such fire, such directness, such a choice
of ungentlemanly language, none had ever before suspected Morris

to possess; and the girl trembled and shrank before his fury.
'You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,' said Gideon

sternly. 'It is what I will not suffer.'
'I shall speak to the girl as I like,' returned Morris, with a

fresh outburst of anger. 'I'll speak to the hussy as she
deserves.'

'Not a word more, sir, not one word,' cried Gideon. 'Miss
Hazeltine,' he continued, addressing the young girl, 'you cannot

stay a moment longer in the same house with this unmanly fellow.
Here is my arm; let me take you where you will be secure from

insult.'
'Mr Forsyth,' returned Julia, 'you are right; I cannot stay here

longer, and I am sure I trust myself to an honourable gentleman.'
Pale and resolute, Gideon offered her his arm, and the pair

descended the steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the
latchkey.

Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty
hansom drove smartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men,

and as the cabman drew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash
into the vehicle.

'Sixpence above fare,' he cried recklessly. 'Waterloo Station for
your life. Sixpence for yourself!'

'Make it a shilling, guv'ner,' said the man, with a grin; 'the
other parties were first.'

'A shilling then,' cried Morris, with the inwardreflection that
he would reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse,

and the hansom vanished from John Street.
CHAPTER VI. The Tribulations of Morris: Part the First

As the hansom span through the streets of London, Morris sought
to rally the forces of his mind. The water-butt with the dead

body had miscarried, and it was essential to recover it. So much
was clear; and if, by some blest good fortune, it was still at

the station, all might be well. If it had been sent out, however,
if it were already in the hands of some wrong person, matters

looked more ominous. People who receive unexplained packages are
usually keen to have them open; the example of Miss Hazeltine

(whom he cursed again) was there to remind him of the
circumstance; and if anyone had opened the water-butt--'O Lord!'

cried Morris at the thought, and carried his hand to his damp
forehead. The private conception of any breach of law is apt to

be inspiriting, for the scheme (while yet inchoate) wears dashing
and attractive colours. Not so in the least that part of the

criminal's later reflections which deal with the police. That
useful corps (as Morris now began to think) had scarce been kept

sufficiently in view when he embarked upon his enterprise. 'I
must play devilish close,' he reflected, and he was aware of an

exquisite thrill of fear in the region of the spine.
'Main line or loop?' enquired the cabman, through the scuttle.

'Main line,' replied Morris, and mentally decided that the man
should have his shilling after all. 'It would be madness to

attract attention,' thought he. 'But what this thing will cost
me, first and last, begins to be a nightmare!'

He passed through the booking-office and wandered disconsolately
on the platform. It was a breathing-space in the day's traffic.

There were few people there, and these for the most part
quiescent on the benches. Morris seemed to attract no remark,

which was a good thing; but, on the other hand, he was making no
progress in his quest. Something must be done, something must be

risked. Every passing instant only added to his dangers.
Summoning all his courage, he stopped a porter, and asked him if

he remembered receiving a barrel by the morning train. He was
anxious to get information, for the barrel belonged to a friend.

'It is a matter of some moment,' he added, 'for it contains
specimens.'

'I was not here this morning, sir,' responded the porter,
somewhat reluctantly, 'but I'll ask Bill. Do you recollect, Bill,

to have got a barrel from Bournemouth this morning containing
specimens?'

'I don't know about specimens,' replied Bill; 'but the party as
received the barrel I mean raised a sight of trouble.'

'What's that?' cried Morris, in the agitation of the moment
pressing a penny into the man's hand.

'You see, sir, the barrel arrived at one-thirty. No one claimed
it till about three, when a small, sickly--looking gentleman

(probably a curate) came up, and sez he, "Have you got anything
for Pitman?" or "Wili'm Bent Pitman," if I recollect right. "I

don't exactly know," sez I, "but I rather fancy that there barrel
bears that name." The little man went up to the barrel, and

seemed regularly all took aback when he saw the address, and then
he pitched into us for not having brought what he wanted. "I

don't care a damn what you want," sez I to him, "but if you are
Will'm Bent Pitman, there's your barrel."'

'Well, and did he take it?' cried the breathless Morris.
'Well, sir,' returned Bill, 'it appears it was a packing-case he

was after. The packing-case came; that's sure enough, because it
was about the biggest packing-case ever I clapped eyes on. And

this Pitman he seemed a good deal cut up, and he had the
superintendent out, and they got hold of the vanman--him as took

the packing-case. Well, sir,' continued Bill, with a smile, 'I
never see a man in such a state. Everybody about that van was

mortal, bar the horses. Some gen'leman (as well as I could make
out) had given the vanman a sov.; and so that was where the

trouble come in, you see.'
'But what did he say?' gasped Morris.

'I don't know as he SAID much, sir,' said Bill. 'But he offered
to fight this Pitman for a pot of beer. He had lost his book,

too, and the receipts, and his men were all as mortal as himself.
O, they were all like'--and Bill paused for a simile--'like

lords! The superintendent sacked them on the spot.'
'O, come, but that's not so bad,' said Morris, with a bursting

sigh. 'He couldn't tell where he took the packing-case, then?'
'Not he,' said Bill, 'nor yet nothink else.'

'And what--what did Pitman do?' asked Morris.
'O, he went off with the barrel in a four-wheeler, very trembling

like,' replied Bill. 'I don't believe he's a gentleman as has
good health.'

'Well, so the barrel's gone,' said Morris, half to himself.
'You may depend on that, sir,' returned the porter. 'But you had

better see the superintendent.'
'Not in the least; it's of no account,' said Morris. 'It only

contained specimens.' And he walked hastily away.
Ensconced once more in a hansom, he proceeded to reconsider his

position. Suppose (he thought), suppose he should accept defeat
and declare his uncle's death at once? He should lose the

tontine, and with that the last hope of his seven thousand eight
hundred pounds. But on the other hand, since the shilling to the

hansom cabman, he had begun to see that crime was expensive in
its course, and, since the loss of the water-butt, that it was

uncertain in its consequences. Quietly at first, and then with
growing heat, he reviewed the advantages of backing out. It

involved a loss; but (come to think of it) no such great loss
after all; only that of the tontine, which had been always a

toss-up, which at bottom he had never really expected. He
reminded himself of that eagerly; he congratulated himself upon

his constantmoderation. He had never really expected the
tontine; he had never even very definitely hoped to recover his

seven thousand eight hundred pounds; he had been hurried into the
whole thing by Michael's obvious dishonesty. Yes, it would

probably be better to draw back from this high-flying venture,
settle back on the leather business--

'Great God!' cried Morris, bounding in the hansom like a
Jack-in-a-box. 'I have not only not gained the tontine--I have

lost the leather business!'
Such was the monstrous fact. He had no power to sign; he could

not draw a cheque for thirty shillings. Until he could produce
legal evidence of his uncle's death, he was a penniless



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