There was no need to repeat it. A telephone was on the table near my hand. I called a taxi, telling them to be at the house in half an hour. After that inferno was let loose. Nothing more outrageous was included in the annals of crime.
"Here I am,—growing grey in your service,—turned into the street. I am an IT,—a THING,—my individuality has been submerged. You have grafted all your ideas upon me, moulding me into your likeness. I am not allowed to think."
"If you are moulded in my image it's a devilish botch I have made of it. Had you been moulded into something human a little earlier in life, you could not have wrecked existence for the two women rash enough to take your name. I have escaped with my sanity,—thank God. Now go."
Storming and swearing at the way he was abused, Mr. Saltus disappeared, returning after fifteen minutes with a suitcase in either hand. The dogs sat in a row to watch him go.
"I'll come back for my trunks and my books to-morrow," he told me, "and I would like to know your plans for the future."
"Inasmuch as they no longer include yourself they cannot interest you," I said. "When you leave this house you leave my life forever."
It was hard to say that to one who, however inflammable and vituperative on the surface, was at heart only a very much spoiled and frightened little boy, long accustomed to giving orders and carrying things with a high hand. A reversal of the order took him out of his bearings. Only a profound understanding of his nature made the success of the experiment possible.
Slamming the door behind him he left the sitting room and went down stairs. The taxi was waiting. Reaching the garden he turned to look back at the house, only to see the shades drawn down, the lights in my sitting room go out, and hear my voice through the French windows saying:—
"Come, my lambs! Come, Toto! You are all that I have in this wicked world."
After that there was silence. Then came a hum of voices from outside and the taxi drove off. With a fair certainty of what the dénouement would be, I kept on a wrapper and lay down on the sofa to rest. Nearly an hour passed. Then the dogs on the veranda began to bark. This said volumes. It said in dog language that some one was entering the house. Soon after there was a creaking noise in the hall. Then silence again. Sniffing a friend, Toto, who slept in my room, went to the door and whined.