His plans had been laid with much ingenuity, though at a terrible
sacrifice of his usual straight-forwardness. He had written a
couple of letters to Mrs. Quelch, to be posted by Mrs. Widger on
appropriate days, giving imaginary accounts of his visits to the
British Museum and Zoological Gardens, with pointed allusions to
the behavior of the elephant, and other circumstantial particulars.
To insure the posting of these in proper order, he had marked the
dates in pencil on the envelopes in the corner usually occupied by
the postage-stamp, so that when the latter was affixed the figures
would be concealed. He explained the arrangement to Mrs. Widger,
who promised that his instructions should be faithfully carried
out.

After a sharp walk he reached the railway-station, and in due
course found himself steaming across the Channel to Dieppe. The
passage was not especially rough, but to poor Quelch, unaccustomed
as he was to the sea, it seemed as if the boat must go to the
bottom every moment. To the bodily pains of seasickness were added
the mental pains of remorse, and between the two he reached Dieppe
more dead than alive; indeed, he would almost have welcomed death
as a release from his sufferings.

Even when the boat had arrived at the pier he still remained in the
berth he had occupied all night, and would probably have continued
to lie there had not the steward lifted him by main force to his
feet. He seized his black bag with a groan, and staggered on deck.
Here he felt a little better, but new terrors seized him at the
sight of the gold-laced officials and blue-bloused porters, who
lined each side of the gangway, all talking at the top of their