‘I must go at the end of next week,’ Paul answered, not daring to look at him, ‘and I must go for good.’
‘I am baying you goot vages,’ said Darco. ‘You vill not get as goot vages. Vot is the madder?’
‘It is no question of wages, sir,’ returned Paul ‘I had not thought of looking for another situation even, though I shall have to do so, of course. But it is absolutely essential that I should be in London. I hope you won’t think that I am acting ungratefully. I feel as if I were, but it will be easy for you to fill my place, and I shall always remember how kind and generous you have been to me.’
‘Now, loog you here,’ said Darco; ‘there is somethings the madder. I can see it in your vace. You dell me vod it is, and I will but it straight for you. I can see that somethings is the madder. I am not a fool. I am Cheorge Dargo. Now dell me.’
‘I can’t explain,’ said Paul. ‘I can only tell you that I have to go to London. I must go.’
‘You vait there a liddle bid,’ returned Darco. ‘I am going to think.’ He rolled away, and Paul hoped he might think to little purpose, but in half an hour he was back again. His eyes snapped, but he was as cold as an iceberg. ‘Ven do you vant to co?’ he asked abruptly.
‘As soon as you can spare me,’ Paul answered.
‘I can sbare you now,’ said Darco. ‘You are a pick-headed younk itiot, ant you can co at once. There is your zalary for next week. Goot-efening to you.’
He went out, banging the door behind him, and Paul was left alone feeling strangely mean and foolish. It seemed that Darco had come to an explanation of his movement, and Paul did not care to think that he had found the real reason for it The real reason was a sacred thing whilst it was hidden away in his own breast; but, held out to the inspection of others, it had a gawky, unfledged sort of look. It lost dignity. The dove that cooed in his bosom was a live bird; but once under Darco’s eyes, and it was a moulted rag—a thing dead and despicable.
He had to face Darco again, and he had little taste for the meeting.