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

The Wrong Box