neither knew nor
sought to know--was gaining on them. But his greatest terror was when
the man with the bloody smear upon his head demanded of him if he knew
this creatures name, and said that he would whisper it. At this the
dreamer fell upon his knees, his whole blood thrilling with inexplicable
fear, and held his ears. But looking at the speaker's lips, he saw that
they formed the utterance of the letter 'J'; and crying out aloud that
the secret was discovered, and they were all lost, he awoke.

Awoke to find Jonas standing at his bedside watching him. And that very
door wide open.

As their eyes met, Jonas retreated a few paces, and Montague sprang out
of bed.

'Heyday!' said Jonas. 'You're all alive this morning.'

'Alive!' the other stammered, as he pulled the bell-rope violently.
'What are you doing here?'

'It's your room to be sure,' said Jonas; 'but I'm almost inclined to ask
you what YOU are doing here? My room is on the other side of that
door. No one told me last night not to open it. I thought it led into a
passage, and was coming out to order breakfast. There's--there's no bell
in my room.'

Montague had in the meantime admitted the man with his hot water and
boots, who hearing this, said, yes, there was; and passed into the
adjoining room to point it out, at the head of the bed.

'I couldn't find it, then,' said Jonas; 'it's all the same. Shall I
order breakfast?'

Montague answered in the affirmative. When Jonas had retired, whistling,
through his own room, he opened the door of communication, to take out
the key and fasten it on the inner side. But it was taken out already.

He dragged a table against the door, and sat down to collect himself, as
if his dreams still had some influence upon his mind.

'An evil journey,' he repeated several times. 'An evil journey. But I'll
travel home alone. I'll have no more of this.'

His presentiment, or superstition, that it was an evil journey, did
not at all deter him from doing the evil for which the journey was
undertaken. With this in view, he dressed himself more carefully than
usual to make a favourable impression on Mr Pecksniff; and, reassured by
his own appearance, the beauty of the morning, and the flashing of
the wet boughs outside his window in the merry sunshine, was soon
sufficiently inspirited to swear a few round oaths, and hum the fag-end
of a song.

But he still muttered to himself at intervals, for all that: 'I'll
travel home alo