Robert Louis Stevenson,
The Wrong Box
(1889)
“ It was indeed Morris that stood before them; not the Morris of ordinary days, but a wild-looking fellow, pale and haggard, with blood-shot 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 of Hercules, literally goggling in his head. 'What is that?' he screamed. 'What is that wax-work? Speak, you fool! What is that? and where's the barrel—the water-butt?' 'No barrel came, Morris,' responded Julia coldly. ”

