Aspel thanked him with a sarcastic smile and passed on. His next effort was with a countryman, who replied, Troth, sur, thats more nor I can tell ee, and looked after his questioner kindly as he walked away. A policeman appearing was tried next. First to the right, sir, third to the left, and ask again, was the sharp reply of that limb of the Executive, as he passed slowly on, stiff as a post, and stately as a law of fate.
Having taken the required turns our wanderer found himself in a peculiarly low, dirty, and disagreeable locality. The population was in keeping with itso much so that Aspel looked round inquiringly before proceeding to ask again. He had not quite made up his mind which of the tawdry, half-drunken creatures around him he would address, when a middle-aged man of respectable appearance, dressed in black, issued from one of the surrounding dens.
A city missionary, thought George Aspel, as he approached, and asked for direction to the abode of a man named Abel Bones.
The missionary pointed out the entrance to the desired abode, and looked at his questioner with a glance which arrested the youths attention.
Excuse me, sir, he said, but the man you name has a very bad character.
Well, what then? demanded Aspel sharply.
Oh! nothing. I only meant to warn you, for he is a dangerous man.
The missionary was a thin but muscular man, with stern black eyes and a powerful nose, which might have rendered his face harsh if it had not been more than redeemed by a large firm mouth, round which played lines that told unmistakably of the milk of human kindness. He smiled as he spoke, and Aspel was disarmed.
Thank you, he said; I am well able to take care of myself.
Evidently the missionary thought so too, for, with a quiet bow, he turned and went his way.
At the end of a remarkably dark passage George Aspel ran his head against a beam and his knee against a door with considerable violence.
Come in, said a very weak but sweet little voice, as though doors in that region were usually rapped at in that fashion.
Lifting the latch and entering, Aspel found himself confronted by Tottie Bones in her native home.
It was a very small, desolate, and dirty home, and barely rendered visible by a thin dip stuck into an empty pint-bottle.
Tottie opened her large eyes wide with astonishment, then laid one of her dirty little fingers on her rosy lips and looked imploringly at her visitor. Thus admonished, he spoke, without knowing why in a subdued voice.
You are surprised to see me, Tottie?
Im surprised at nothink, sir. Taint possible to surprise me with anythink in this life.
Dyou expect to be surprised by anything in any other life, Tottie? asked Aspel, more amused by the air of the child than by her answer.
Praps. Dont much know, and dont much care, said Tottie.
Well, Ive come to ask something, said the youth, sitting down on a low box for the convenience of conversation, and I hope, Tottie, that youll tell me the truth. Heres a half-crown for you. The truth, mind, whether you think it will please me or not; I dont want to be pleasedI want the truth.
Id tell you the truth without that, said Tottie, eyeing the half-crown which Aspel still held between his fingers, but hand it over. We want a good many o these things here, bein pretty hard up at times.
She spun the piece deftly in the air, caught it cleverly, and put it in her pocket.
Well, tell me, now, did you post the letter I gave you the night I took tea with Miss Lillycrop?
Yes, I did, answered the child, with a nod of decision.
Youre telling the truth?
Yes; as sure as death.
Poor Tottie had made her strongest asseveration, but it did not convey to Aspel nearly so much assurance as did the earnest gaze of her bright and truthful eyes.
You put it in the pillar? he continued.
Yes.
At the end of the street?
Yes, at the end of the street; and oh, youve no idea what an awful time I was about it; the slit was so high, an I come down sitch a cropper wen it was done!
But it went in all right?
Yes, all right.
George Aspel sat for some moments in gloomy silence. He now felt convinced of that which at first he had only suspectednamely, that his intending patron was offended because he had not at once called in person to thank him, instead of doing so by letter. Probably, also, he had been hurt by the expressions in the letter to which Philip Maylands had objected when it was read to him.
Well, well, he exclaimed, suddenly giving a severe slap to his unoffending thigh, Ill have nothing to do with him. If hes so touchyas that comes to, the less that he and I have to say to each other the better.
Oh! please, sir, hush! exclaimed Tottie, pointing with a look of alarm to a bundle which lay in a dark corner, youll wake im.
Wake who?
Father, whispered the child.
The visitor rose, took up the pint-bottle, and by the aid of its flaring candle beheld something that resembled a large man huddled together in a heap on a straw mattress, as he had last fallen down. His position, together with his torn and disarranged garments, had destroyed all semblance to human form save where a great limb protruded. His visage was terribly disfigured by the effects of drink, besides being partly concealed by his matted hair.
What a wretched spectacle! exclaimed the young man, touching the heap with his foot as he turned away in disgust.
Just then a woman with a black eye entered the room with a black bottle in her hand. She was the woman who had refused the beer from Aspel.
Mother, said Tottie, running up to her, heres the gent who
Av-ee-go-th-gin? growled a deep voice from the dark corner.
Yes, Abel
Ave ee got th gin, I say, Molly? roared the voice in rising wrath.
Yes, yes, Abel, here it is, exclaimed the woman, hastening towards the corner.
The savage who lay there was so eager to obtain the bottle that he made a snatch at it and let it slip on the stone floor, where it was broken to pieces.
O dont, Abel dear, dont! Ill get another, pleaded the poor woman; but Abels disappointment was too great for endurance; he managed to rise, and made a wild blow at the woman,missed her, and staggered into the middle of the room. Here he encountered the stern glance of George Aspel. Being a dark, stern man himself, with a bulky powerful frame, he rather rejoiced in the sight of a man who seemed a worthy foe.
What dee wan here, you long-leggedhah! would you? he added, on observing Aspels face flush and his fists close, Take that!
He struck out at his adversarys face with tremendous violence. Aspel parried the blow and returned it with such good-will that Abel Bones went headlong into the dark corner whence he had risen,and lay there.
Im very sorry, said the instantly-repentant George, turning to Mrs Bones, but I couldnt help it; really, I
There, there; go away, sir, and thank you kindly, said the unfortunate woman, urgingalmost pushingher visitor towards the door. Itll do im good, praps. He dont get that every day, an it wont urt im.
Aspel found himself suddenly in the dark passage, and heard the door slammed. His first impulse was to turn, dash in the door with his foot, and take vengeance on Abel Bones, his next to burst into a sardonic laugh. Thereafter he frowned fiercely, and strode away. In doing so he drew himself up with sea-king-like dignity and assaulted a beam, which all but crushed his hat over his eyes. This did not improve his temper, but the beer had not yet robbed him of all self-control; he stooped to conquer and emerged into the street.
Well was it for George Aspel that his blow had been such an effective one, for if a riot with Bones had followed the blow, there were numerous kindred spirits there who would have been only too glad to aid their chum, and the intruder would have fared badly among them, despite his physical powers. As it was, he soon regained a respectable thoroughfare, and hastened away in the direction of his lodgings.
But a dark frown clouded his brow, for as he went along his thoughts were busy with what he believed to be the insolent pride of Sir James Clubley. He also thought of May Maylands, and the resolution with which she so firmly yet so gently repelled him. The latter thought wounded his pride as well as his feelings deeply. While in this mood the spirit of the sea-kings arose within him once again. He entered a public-house and had another pot of beer. It was very refreshingremarkably so! 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 himbutbutit was decidedly refreshing! There could be no doubt whatever about that, and it induced him to take a more amiable view of men in generalof 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 Mayhope 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 Londona 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, butno 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 glass of brandy-and-water. These were followed by another cigar and another glass. 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 Aspels 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 shirt.
Good-humour and kindliness usually served Aspel in the place of principle. Remove these qualities temporarily, and he became an unguarded savagesometimes 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 glasses along with him.
Aspel was prevented from doing more mischief by three powerful policemen, who seized him from behind and led him into the passage. 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, dont be afraid of im. He cant urt youtoo 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 Circumstances
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 brothers 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 attitudes more or less unlike nature, while a few wore expressions of astonishment quite in keeping with their circumstances.
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.
Heres 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 Blurts face.
My brother is worse? he said quickly.
Not worse, replied the doctor, but his case is critical. Everything will depend on his mind being kept at ease. He has taken it into his head that his business is going to wreck while he lies there unable to attend to it, and asked me earnestly if the shop had been opened. I told him Id step down and inquire.
Poor Fred! murmured his brother sadly; he has too good reason to fancy his business is going to wreck, with or without his attendance, for I find that very little is doing, and you can see that the entire stock isnt worth fifty poundsif so much. The worst of it is that his boy, who used to assist him, absconded yesterday with the contents of the till, and there is no one now to look after it.
Thats awkward. We must open the shop how ever, for it is all-important that his mind should be kept quiet. Do you know how to open it, Mr Blurt?
Poor Mr Blurt looked helplessly at the closed shutters, through a hole in one of which the morning sun was streaming. Turning round he encountered the deeply solemn gaze of an owl which stood on a shelf at his elbow.
No, doctor, I know no more how to open it than that idiot there, he said, pointing to the owl, but Ill make inquiries of Mrs Murridge.