Part 10 (1/2)

True, the tall and stalwart young frame of George Aspel needed no refreshment at the time, and he would have scorned the insinuation that he _required_ anything to support him--but--but--it was decidedly refres.h.i.+ng! There could be no doubt whatever about that, and it induced him to take a more amiable view of men in general--of ”poor Abel Bones”

in particular. He even felt less savagely disposed towards Sir James, though he by no means forgave him, but made up his mind finally to have nothing more to do with him, while as to May--hope told him flattering tales.

At this point in his walk he was attracted by one of those traps to catch the unwary, which are so numerous in London--a music-hall. George knew not what it was, and cared not. It was a place of public entertainment: that was enough for him. He wanted entertainment, and in he went.

It is not our purpose to describe this place. Enough is told when we have said that there were dazzling lights and gorgeous scenes, and much music, and many other things to amuse. There were also many gentlemen, but--no ladies. There was also much smoking and drinking.

Aspel soon observed that he was expected either to drink or smoke. He did not wish to do either, but, disliking singularity, ordered a cigar and a gla.s.s of brandy-and-water. These were followed by another cigar and another gla.s.s. Towards midnight he had reached that condition when drink stimulates the desire for more drink. Being aware, from former experience, of the danger of this condition, and being, as we have said, a man of some strength of will, he rose to go.

At the moment a half-tipsy man at the little table next him carelessly flung the end of his cigar away. It alighted, probably by accident, on the top of Aspel's head.

”Hallo, sir!” shouted the enraged youth, starting up and seizing the man by his collar.

”Hallo, sir!” echoed the man, who had reached his pugnacious cups, ”let go.”

He struck out at the same moment. Aspel would have parried the blow, but his arm had been seized by one of the bystanders, and it took effect on his nose, which instantly sent a red stream over his mouth and down the front of his s.h.i.+rt.

Good-humour and kindliness usually served Aspel in the place of principle. Remove these qualities temporarily, and he became an unguarded savage--sometimes a roaring lion.

With a shout that suspended the entertainments and drew the attention of the whole house, he seized his adversary, lifted him in the air, and would infallibly have dashed him on the floor if he had not been caught in the arms of the crowd. As it was, the offender went down, carrying half-a-dozen friends and a couple of tables with their gla.s.ses along with him.

Aspel was prevented from doing more mischief by three powerful policemen, who seized him from behind and led him into the pa.s.sage.

There a noisy explanation took place, which gave the offender time to cool and reflect on his madness. On his talking quietly to the policemen, and readily paying for the damage he had done, he was allowed to go free. Descending the stair to the street, where the glare of the entrance-lamps fell full upon him, he felt a sudden sensation of faintness, caused by the combination of cold air, excitement, drink, and smoke. Seizing the railings with one hand, he stood for a moment with his eyes shut.

Re-opening them, and gazing stupidly before him, he encountered the horrified gaze of May Maylands! She had been spending the evening with Miss Lillycrop, and was on her way home, escorted by Solomon Flint.

”Come along, Miss May,” said Solomon, ”don't be afraid of 'im. He can't 'urt you--too far gone for that, bless you. Come on.”

May yielded, and was out of sight in a moment.

Filled with horror, despair, madness, and self-contempt, George Aspel stood holding on to the railings and glaring into vacuity. Recovering himself he staggered home and went to bed.

CHAPTER NINE.

MR. BLURT AND GEORGE ASPEL IN PECULIAR CIRc.u.mSTANCES.

When a man finds himself in a false position, out of which he sees no way of escape, he is apt to feel a depression of spirits which reveals itself in the expression of his countenance.

One morning Mr Enoch Blurt sat on a high stool in his brother's shop, with his elbows on a screened desk, his chin in his hands, and a grim smile on his lips.

The shop was a peculiar one. It had somewhat the aspect of an old curiosity shop, but the predominance of stuffed birds gave it a distinctly ornithological flavour. Other stuffed creatures were there, however, such as lizards, frogs, monkeys, etcetera, all of which straddled in att.i.tudes more or less unlike nature, while a few wore expressions of astonishment quite in keeping with their circ.u.mstances.

”Here am I,” soliloquised Mr Blurt with a touch of bitterness, ”in the position of a shop-boy, in possession of a shop towards which I entertain feelings of repugnance, seeing that it has twice ruined my poor brother, and in regard to the details of which I know absolutely nothing. I had fancied I had reached the lowest depths of misfortune when I became a ruined diamond-merchant, but this is a profounder deep.”

”Here's the doctor a-comin' down-stairs, sir,” said an elderly female, protruding her head from the back shop, and speaking in a stage-whisper.

”Very well, Mrs Murridge, let him come,” said Mr Blurt recklessly.

He descended from the stool, as the doctor entered the shop looking very grave. Every expression, save that of deep anxiety, vanished from Mr Blurt's face.

”My brother is worse?” he said quickly.