CHAPTER V. Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box
It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes madeacquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before thedoors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the glimpsewas sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was temperedwith hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year before was a youngbarrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth.
About three o'clock of the eventful day when the magistrate tamperedwith the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble had carriedMr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about the same moment MissHazeltine was called to the door of No. 16 by a thundering double knock.
Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have beenhappier if he had had more money and less uncle. One hundred andtwenty pounds a year was all his store; but his uncle, Mr Edward HughBloomfield, supplemented this with a handsome allowance and a greatdeal of advice, couched in language that would probably have been judgedintemperate on board a pirate ship. Mr Bloomfield was indeed a figurequite peculiar to the days of Mr Gladstone; what we may call (for thelack of an accepted expression) a Squirradical. Having acquired yearswithout experience, he carried into the Radical side of politics thosenoisy, after-dinner-table passions, which we are more accustomed toconnect with Toryism in its severe and senile aspects. To the opinionsof Mr Bradlaugh, in fact, he added the temper and the sympathies of thatextinct animal, the Squire; he admired pugilism, he carried a formidableoaken staff, he was a reverent churchman, and it was hard to know whichwould have more volcanically stirred his choler--a person who shouldhave defended the established church, or one who should have neglectedto attend its celebrations. He had besides some levelling catchwords,justly dreaded in the family circle; and when he could not go so faras to declare a step un-English, he might still (and with hardly lesseffect) denounce it as unpractical. It was under the ban of this lesserexcommunication that Gideon had fallen. His views on the study of lawhad been pronounced unpractical; and it had been intimated to him, ina vociferous interview punctuated with the oaken staff, that he musteither take a new start and get a brief or two, or prepare to live onhis own money.
No wonder if Gideon was moody. He had not the slightest wish to modifyhis present habits; but he would not stand on that, since the recall ofMr Bloomfield's allowance would revolutionize them still more radically.He had not the least desire to acquaint himself with law; he had lookedinto it already, and it seemed not to repay attention; but upon thisalso he was ready to give way. In fact, he would go as far as he couldto meet the views of his uncle, the Squirradical. But there was one partof the programme that appeared independent of his will. How to geta brief? there was the question. And there was another and a worse.Suppose he got one, should he prove the better man?
Suddenly he found his way barred by a crowd. A garishly illuminated vanwas backed against the kerb; from its open stern, half resting on thestreet, half supported by some glistening athletes, the end of thelargest packing-case in the county of Middlesex might have been seenprotruding; while, on the steps of the house, the burly person ofthe driver and the slim figure of a young girl stood as upon a stage,disputing.
'It is not for us,' the girl was saying. 'I beg you to take it away; itcouldn't get into the house, even if you managed to get it out of thevan.'
'I shall leave it on the pavement, then, and M. Finsbury can arrangewith the Vestry as he likes,' said the vanman.
'But I am not M. Finsbury,' expostulated the girl.
'It doesn't matter who you are,' said the vanman.
'You must allow me to help you, Miss Hazeltine,' said Gideon, puttingout his hand.
Julia gave a little cry of pleasure. 'O, Mr Forsyth,' she cried, 'I amso glad to see you; we must get this horrid thing, which can only havecome here by mistake, into the house. The man says we'll have to takeoff the door, or knock two of our windows into one, or be fined bythe Vestry or Custom House or something for leaving our parcels on thepavement.'
The men by this time had successfully removed the box from the van, hadplumped it down on the pavement, and now stood leaning against it, orgazing at the door of No. 16, in visible physical distress and mentalembarrassment. The windows of the whole street had filled, as if bymagic, with interested and entertained spectators.
With as thoughtful and scientific an expression as he could assume,Gideon measured the doorway with his cane, while Julia entered hisobservations in a drawing-book. He then measured the box, and, uponcomparing his data, found that there was just enough space for it toenter. Next, throwing off his coat and waistcoat, he assisted the men totake the door from its hinges. And lastly, all bystanders being pressedinto the service, the packing-case mounted the steps upon somefifteen pairs of wavering legs--scraped, loudly grinding, through thedoorway--and was deposited at length, with a formidable convulsion, inthe far end of the lobby, which it almost blocked. The artisans of thisvictory smiled upon each other as the dust subsided. It was true theyhad smashed a bust of Apollo and ploughed the wall into deep ruts; but,at least, they were no longer one of the public spectacles of London.
'Well, sir,' said the vanman, 'I never see such a job.'
Gideon eloquently expressed his concurrence in this sentiment bypressing a couple of sovereigns in the man's hand.
'Make it three, sir, and I'll stand Sam to everybody here!' cried thelatter, and, this having been done, the whole body of volunteer portersswarmed into the van, which drove off in the direction of the nearestreliable public-house. Gideon closed the door on their departure, andturned to Julia; their eyes met; the most uncontrollable mirth seizedupon them both, and they made the house ring with their laughter. Thencuriosity awoke in Julia's mind, and she went and examined the box, andmore especially the label.
'This is the strangest thing that ever happened,' she said, with anotherburst of laughter. 'It is certainly Morris's handwriting, and I had aletter from him only this morning, telling me to expect a barrel. Isthere a barrel coming too, do you think, Mr Forsyth?'
"'Statuary with Care, Fragile,'" read Gideon aloud from the paintedwarning on the box. 'Then you were told nothing about this?'
'No,' responded Julia. 'O, Mr Forsyth, don't you think we might take apeep 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 istoo 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 discoveredthat Miss Hazeltine had a very pretty little foot and ankle; and thediscovery embarrassed him so much that he was glad to fall at once uponthe packing-case.
He worked hard and earnestly, and dealt his blows with the precisionof a blacksmith; Julia the while standing silently by his side, andregarding 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 toher. She, too, smiled and coloured; and the double change became herso prettily that Gideon forgot to turn away his eyes, and, swinging thehammer with a will, discharged a smashing blow on his own knuckles. Withadmirable presence of mind he crushed down an oath and substituted theharmless comment, 'Butter fingers!' But the pain was sharp, his nervewas shaken, and after an abortive trial he found he must desist fromfurther operations.
In a moment Julia was off to the pantry; in a moment she was back againwith a basin of water and a sponge, and had begun to bathe his woundedhand.
'I am dreadfully sorry!' said Gideon apologetically. 'If I had hadany manners I should have opened the box first and smashed my handafterward. 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 h
im, with a suspicion of a frown; andthe indiscreet young man was glad to direct her attention to thepacking-case. The bulk of the work had been accomplished; and presentlyJulia had burst through the last barrier and disclosed a zone of straw.in a moment they were kneeling side by side, engaged like haymakers; thenext 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 outlike penny rolls.'
Another leg was soon disclosed, and then what seemed to be a third. Thisresolved itself, however, into a knotted club resting upon a pedestal.
'It is a Hercules,' cried Gideon; 'I might have guessed that from hiscalf. I'm supposed to be rather partial to statuary, but when it comesto Hercules, the police should interfere. I should say,' he added,glancing with disaffection at the swollen leg, 'that this was about thebiggest and the worst in Europe. What in heaven's name can have inducedhim to come here?'
'I suppose nobody else would have a gift of him,' said Julia. 'And forthat 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 mostamusing experiences of my life.'
'I don't think you'll forget it very soon,' said Julia. 'Your hand willremind 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 hishat, 'of course I should only be too delighted.'
'What a silly person you must take me for!' returned the girl. 'Why, ofcourse I do; and, besides, I want some cakes for tea, and I've nobody tosend. Here is the latchkey.'
Gideon put on his hat with alacrity, and casting one look at MissHazeltine, and another at the legs of Hercules, threw open the door anddeparted on his errand.
He returned with a large bag of the choicest and most tempting of cakesand tartlets, and found Julia in the act of spreading a small tea-tablein the lobby.
'The rooms are all in such a state,' she cried, 'that I thought weshould be more cosy and comfortable in our own lobby, and under our ownvine and statuary.'
'Ever so much better,' cried Gideon delightedly.
'O what adorable cream tarts!' said Julia, opening the bag, 'and thedearest little cherry tartlets, with all the cherries spilled out intothe cream!'
'Yes,' said Gideon, concealing his dismay, 'I knew they would mixbeautifully; the woman behind the counter told me so.'
'Now,' said Julia, as they began their little festival, 'I am goingto show you Morris's letter; read it aloud, please; perhaps there'ssomething I have missed.'
Gideon took the letter, and spreading it out on his knee, read asfollows:
DEAR JULIA, I write you from Browndean, where we are stopping over fora 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 withJohn, and come up alone; but before that, you will have received abarrel 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,' hecontinued, 'would you mind me asking a few questions?'
'Certainly not,' replied Julia; 'and if you can make me understand whyMorris has sent a statue of Hercules instead of a barrel containingspecimens for a friend, I shall be grateful till my dying day. And whatare 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 thepoint. Are you quite alone in this big house?'
'Yes, I am at present,' returned Julia. 'I came up before them toprepare the house, and get another servant. But I couldn't get one Iliked.'
'Then you are utterly alone,' said Gideon in amazement. 'Are you notafraid?'
'No,' responded Julia stoutly. 'I don't see why I should be more afraidthan you would be; I am weaker, of course, but when I found I must sleepalone in the house I bought a revolver wonderfully cheap, and made theman 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 ontop, and then pointing it very low, for it springs up as you fire, youpull the underneath little trigger thing, and it goes off as well as ifa 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 Iknow how, and that makes me wonderfully courageous, especially when Ibarricade my door with a chest of drawers.'
'I'm awfully glad they are coming back soon,' said Gideon. 'Thisbusiness 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 youpreferred.'
'Lend me an aunt!' cried Julia. 'O, what generosity! I begin to think itmust have been you that sent the Hercules.'
'Believe me,' cried the young man, 'I admire you too much to send yousuch an infamous work of art..'
Julia was beginning to reply, when they were both startled by a knockingat the door.
'O, Mr Forsyth!'
'Don't be afraid, my dear girl,' said Gideon, laying his hand tenderlyon her arm.
'I know it's the police,' she whispered. 'They are coming to complainabout 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 doorand opened it.
It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinarydays, 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 ofHercules, literally goggling in his head. 'What is that?' he screamed.'What is that waxwork? Speak, you fool! What is that? And where's thebarrel--the water-butt?'
'No barrel came, Morris,' responded Julia coldly. 'This is the onlything 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 pullthe 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 hisforehead; he leaned against the wall like a man about to faint. Then histongue 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 trembledand shrank before his fury.
'You shall not speak to Miss Hazeltine in that way,' said Gideonsternly. 'It is what I will not suffer.'
'I shall speak to the girl as I like,' returned Morris, with a freshoutburst of anger. 'I'll speak to the hussy as she deserves.'
'Not a word more, sir, not one word,' cried Gideon. 'Miss Hazeltine,' hecontinued, addressing the young girl, 'you cannot stay a moment longerin the same house with this unmanly fellow. Here is my arm; let me takeyou 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 descendedthe steps, followed by Morris clamouring for the latchkey.
Julia had scarcely handed the key to Morris before an empty hansom drovesmartly into John Street. It was hailed by both men, and as the cabmandrew up his restive horse, Morris made a dash into the vehicle.
'Sixpence above fare,' he cried recklessly. 'Waterloo Station for yourlife. Sixpence
for yourself!'
'Make it a shilling, guv'ner,' said the man, with a grin; 'the otherparties were first.'
'A shilling then,' cried Morris, with the inward reflection that hewould reconsider it at Waterloo. The man whipped up his horse, and thehansom vanished from John Street.