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 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 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.”
“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.