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.
