Dr
Murdo's Walking Stick
by
Sara Lee
Jack Barlow, antique dealer and opportunist,
could never pass an antique shop without a look inside. Curiosities,
as this one called itself, was the kind of shop he often found in
such small country villages as Apley. Run by enthusiasts rather
than experts, they were usually filled with junk. But occasionally,
just occasionally, had made the exciting discovery of an early impressionist
painting or a piece of rare German pottery worth a small fortune.
He never told the proprietor of his suspicions, and would beat down
the price, even if it was just a few pounds they were asking. Curiosities
held no surprises Ð cluttered as it was from floor to ceiling with
car-boot objects dÕart and little else.
Strangely, he heard a womanÕs sobbing uncontrollably in the little
office at the back of the shop. A manÕs voice was trying to calm
her: ÔIÕll get rid of it Stephanie. I promise IÕll get rid of it.Õ
Jack supposed, from the mess around him, that they were talking
about an animal, and was about to leave when from the corner of
his eye he saw something move threateningly towards him.
Thinking it might be a dog Ð and he was very afraid of dogs Ð he
grabbed a walking stick to shoo it away. But, strangely, there was
no animal there. He was about to replace the stick with others in
a receptacle when he noticed with interest that it was metal, possibly
silver, |
and the intricate design along
the stem was made up of numerous human faces, so grotesquely fashioned
as to be frightening Ð like souls in torment. But the superb workmanship
spoke of its quality.
‘That’s Doctor Murdo’s walking stick,’ said
a voice. It was the proprietor. A small man with a moustache. ‘He
was a local eccentric.’
‘Funny thing for a doctor to have.’
‘He was a Doctor of Divinity. He was once the vicar here,
about three hundred years ago. They recently sold off the vicarage
and its contents, some of which I bought.’
‘It’s very nice, but there is some damage to it,’
began Jack, going into his usual patter.
‘I’ll take five pounds for it,’ said the man.
‘As you rightly observed, it is damaged,’ he added,
seeing Jack’s surprise.
‘Four,’ said Jack out of habit, though his heart was
in his mouth with excitement.
‘If you like,’ said the man without hesitation. As Jack
gave him the money, he saw that a woman was standing at the door
of the little office. Her red eyes were now quite dry, but she was
staring at Jack with such a guilty look that for the first time
he wondered, cheap though it was, if he really was getting the bargain
he imagined.
He had come to Apley for a country house sale that was due to take
place early the next morning. Finding a small hotel, he booked a
room for the night. A plump, friendly woman at the reception desk
filled out the registration.
‘Just the one night?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And your friend also?’
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