d
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 latch-key.

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 bod