"You are astonished to see this?" he asked.
"Not in the least," Grey said. "I should not be astonished at anything you did. But, if it isn't an impertinent question, why are you acting in this fashion? It seems almost a sacrilege to strip a beautiful place like this. And if you must leave it, why not have let it furnished?"
A cynical laugh broke from Charlock's lips.
"It takes time to let a furnished house," he said, "even a little paradise like this. And the lesson loses nothing of its force because it is administered promptly and speedily. When I bark, I bite. And I don't want to give warning. Ah, you don't know what it is to be mated to an extravagant wife who has no consideration for any one but herself. I should be, at the present moment, a rich man. I have no vices. My personal expenditure is nothing. But I do love to be surrounded by things that are good and beautiful. That is why I spent so much in furnishing this house. I thought I was one of the happiest of men. I thought I was going to lead an ideal existence. But I found I was tied to a woman whose one idea was fashion, who thought nothing of playing at gardening in a Paris frock that cost fifty or sixty pounds. And one day I awoke to the fact that I was on the verge of bankruptcy. Great Scott! how those bills came rolling in! There was only one thing to be done—to act at once. There are no half measures with me. I cut everything adrift. I have taken a labourer's cottage. I told my wife she would have to live there with me and do everything till every farthing was paid. And now she has gone."
Charlock spoke harshly and bitterly. It was rarely, indeed, that he mentioned his own feelings. But the wound was too recent. And there was something in Grey's manner that invited confidence.
"Your wife will think better of it," the latter murmured.
"Will she? Yes, perhaps, when the leopard changes his spots and the Ethiopian his skin, but not till then. Oh, everybody will side with her, of course. Everybody knows that I am hard and harsh and difficult to live with. She will pose as an injured woman, and the blame will be mine; indeed, she has begun to do so already. What do you think of her making a convert of Arnold Rent? Fancy that cynical man of the world, who would stick at nothing to gratify his ambition, forfeiting his future for the sake of my injured wife! That is the idea. He has become her champion. I presume he is going to look after her welfare till I am forced to make her a proper allowance. Probably you will hear of the thing again in the law courts—the well-known artist and his outraged wife, and all that kind of thing. Well, let them take what steps they like; I sha'n't trouble to defend it. And yet behind it all there is a comedy so amusing that I feel inclined to laugh in spite of myself. What do you think of my wife's going down to Devonshire to seek an asylum under the roof of Rent's mother? And what do you think of me as an honoured guest in the same house? I am not joking. The thing is in my own hands; indeed, it is more or less imperative, especially as I am not very busy, and an early commission is essential. There is a situation in a play for you! Think what Pinero would make out of it! But why should I bore you with these sordid details? They cannot interest you."
Before Grey could make a suitable reply Charlock held out his hand and bade his companion a blunt good-day. He turned back to the house and banged the door behind him, as if ashamed at this display of feeling. It was not often that the strong man cried aloud so that the world might know of his hurt. He was furious with himself that he had done so now. And it seemed to Grey that it would be in bad taste to attempt to follow his friend and clear up the points which had been the object of his journey.
He walked out of the gates and down the road to the outskirts of the town to the newly erected buildings where, until the past day or two, Arnold Rent had been conducting a series of experiments in wireless telegraphy. The office was close to the shore. One or two workmen were engaged with some apparatus the like of which Grey had not seen before. It was only natural that he should be interested in what was going on, that he should linger for a moment or two, until the office door opened and a clerk emerged. With some directness of manner, but civilly enough, he asked Grey's business. The scientist turned to face the man, abnormally thin and tall—a man with a face like faded yellow parchment, lighted by a pair of sombre, smouldering eyes.
"You seem to have forgotten me, Swift," Grey said. "Have I altered so much during the last two years?"