Stein started like a somnambulist suddenly awakened and looked at her stupidly, then at the motionless girls in the shop.
'Nein, nein, lassen sie doch,' he muttered.
'Mr Stein, Mr Stein,' half-screamed Cora.
'Oh, get out, I'm all right, but the game's up. He's gone. The game's up I tell up. The game's up.'
Cora looked at him round-eyed. Mr Stein's idioms frightened her almost more than his German.
Stein was babbling, speaking louder and louder.
'Gone away, Burton. Bankrupt and got all the cash. . . . See? You get the sack. Starve. So do I and my vife. . . . Ach, ach, ach, ach. Mein Gott, Mein Gott, was solls. . . .'
Gertie watched from the counter with a heightened colour. Lottie and Victoria, side by side, had not moved. A curious chill had seized Victoria, stiffening her wrists and knees. Stein was talking quicker and quicker, with a voice that was not his.
'Ach, the damned scoundrel . . . the schweinehund . . . he knew the business was going to the dogs, ach, schweinehund, schweinehund. . . .' He paused. Less savage his thoughts turned to his losses. 'Two hundred shares he sold me. . . . I paid a premium . . . they vas to go to four . . . ach, ach, ach. . . . I'm in the cart.'
Gertie sniggered gently. The idiom had swamped the tragedy. Stein looked round at the sound. His face had gone leaden; his greasy plastered hair was all awry.