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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
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