Complete Works of Robert Louis Stevenson (Illustrated) (160 page)

Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment by pressing a couple of sovereigns in the man’s hand.

‘Make it three, sir, and I’ll stand Sam to everybody here!’ cried the latter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer porters swarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearest reliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, and turned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seized upon them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Then curiosity awoke in Julia’s mind, and she went and examined the box, and more especially the label.

‘This is the strangest thing that ever happened,’ she said, with another burst of laughter. ‘It is certainly Morris’s handwriting, and I had a letter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Is there a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?’

“‘Statuary with Care, Fragile,’“ read Gideon aloud from the painted warning on the box. ‘Then you were told nothing about this?’

‘No,’ responded Julia. ‘O, Mr Forsyth, don’t you think we might take a peep at it?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ cried Gideon. ‘Just let me have a hammer.’

‘Come down, and I’ll show you where it is,’ cried Julia. ‘The shelf is too high for me to reach’; and, opening the door of the kitchen stair, she bade Gideon follow her. They found both the hammer and a chisel; but Gideon was surprised to see no sign of a servant. He also discovered that Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and the discovery embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once upon the packing-case.

He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precision of a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, and regarding rather the workman than the work. He was a handsome fellow; she told herself she had never seen such beautiful arms. And suddenly, as though he had overheard these thoughts, Gideon turned and smiled to her. She, too, smiled and coloured; and the double change became her so prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging the hammer with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. With admirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and substituted the harmless comment, ‘Butter fingers!’ But the pain was sharp, his nerve was shaken, and after an abortive trial he found he must desist from further operations.

In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back again with a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his wounded hand.

‘I am dreadfully sorry!’ said Gideon apologetically. ‘If I had had any manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my hand afterward. It feels much better,’ he added. ‘I assure you it does.’

‘And now I think you are well enough to direct operations,’ said she. ‘Tell me what to do, and I’ll be your workman.’

‘A very pretty workman,’ said Gideon, rather forgetting himself. She turned and looked at him, with a suspicion of a frown; and the indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to the packing-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and presently Julia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw. in a moment they were kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; the next they were rewarded with a glimpse of something white and polished; and the next again laid bare an unmistakable marble leg.

‘He is surely a very athletic person,’ said Julia.

‘I never saw anything like it,’ responded Gideon. ‘His muscles stand out like penny rolls.’

Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. This resolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal.

‘It is a Hercules,’ cried Gideon; ‘I might have guessed that from his calf. I’m supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comes to Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,’ he added, glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, ‘that this was about the biggest and the worst in Europe. What in heaven’s name can have induced him to come here?’

‘I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,’ said Julia. ‘And for that matter, I think we could have done without the monster very well.’

‘O, don’t say that,’ returned Gideon. ‘This has been one of the most amusing experiences of my life.’

‘I don’t think you’ll forget it very soon,’ said Julia. ‘Your hand will remind you.’

‘Well, I suppose I must be going,’ said Gideon reluctantly. ‘No,’ pleaded Julia. ‘Why should you? Stay and have tea with me.’

‘If I thought you really wished me to stay,’ said Gideon, looking at his hat, ‘of course I should only be too delighted.’

‘What a silly person you must take me for!’ returned the girl. ‘Why, of course I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I’ve nobody to send. Here is the latchkey.’

Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at Miss Hazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door and departed on his errand.

He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakes and tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-table in the lobby.

‘The rooms are all in such a state,’ she cried, ‘that I thought we should be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our own vine and statuary.’

‘Ever so much better,’ cried Gideon delightedly.

‘O what adorable cream tarts!’ said Julia, opening the bag, ‘and the dearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out into the cream!’

‘Yes,’ said Gideon, concealing his dismay, ‘I knew they would mix beautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.’

‘Now,’ said Julia, as they began their little festival, ‘I am going to show you Morris’s letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there’s something I have missed.’

Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read as follows:

DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over for a few days. Uncle was much shaken in that dreadful accident, of which, I dare say, you have seen the account. Tomorrow I leave him here with John, and come up alone; but before that, you will have received a barrel CONTAINING SPECIMENS FOR A FRIEND. Do not open it on any account, but leave it in the lobby till I come.

Yours in haste,

M. FINSBURY.

P.S. — Be sure and leave the barrel in the lobby.

‘No,’ said Gideon, ‘there seems to be nothing about the monument,’ and he nodded, as he spoke, at the marble legs. ‘Miss Hazeltine,’ he continued, ‘would you mind me asking a few 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 wonderfully courageous, 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 inward reflection 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.”‘