"I am a
merchant in tea, yellow fat, and mixed spices, in a small but hitherto
satisfactory way." Thus revealing himself, he continued to set forth
how at an earlier hour he had started on a journey to deposit his
wealth (doubtless as a propitiation of outraged deities) upon a
certain bank, and how, upon reaching the specified point, he
discovered that what he carried had eluded his vigilance. "All gone:
notes, gold, and pocket-book--the savings of a lifetime," concluded
the ill-omened one, and at the recollection a sudden and even more
highly-sustained frenzy of self-unpopularity involving him, without a
pause he addressed himself by seven and twenty insulting expressions,
many of which were quite new to my understanding.
At the earliest mention of the details affecting the loss, the elbow
of the person who had made himself responsible for the financial
obligation of the day propelled itself against my middle part, and
unseen by the other he indicated to me by means of his features that
the entertainment was becoming one of agreeable prepossession.
"Now, touching this hyer wallet," he said presently. "How might you
describe it?"
"In colour it was red, and within were two compartments, the one
containing three score notes each of ten pounds, the other fifty
pounds of gold. But what's the use of describing it? Some lucky demon
will pick it up and pocket the lot, and I shall never see a cent of it
again.
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