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