Louis, however, suspected that his brevity was due to Julian’s resentment of any inquisitiveness concerning his doings in South Africa; and he therefore at once abandoned South Africa as a subject of talk, though he was rather curious to know what, indeed, Julian had been about in South Africa for six mortal months.  Nobody in the Five Towns knew for certain what Julian had been about in South Africa.  It was understood that he had gone there as a commercial traveller for his own wares, when his business was in a highly unsatisfactory condition, and that he had meant to stay for only a month.  The excursion had been deemed somewhat mad, but not more mad than sundry other deeds of Julian.  Then Julian’s manager, Foulger, had (it appeared) received authority to assume responsible charge of the manufactory until further notice.  From that moment the business had prospered:  a result at which nobody was surprised, because Foulger was notoriously a “good man” who had hitherto been baulked in his ideas by an obstinate young employer.

In a community of stiff-necked employers, Julian already held a high place for the quality of being stiff-necked.  Jim Horrocleave, for example, had a queer, murderous manner with customers and with “hands,” but Horrocleave was friendly towards scientific ideas in the earthenware industry, and had even given half a guinea to the fund for encouraging technical education in the district.  Whereas Julian Maldon not only terrorized customers and work-people (the latter nevertheless had a sort of liking for him), but was bitingly scornful of “cranky chemists,” or “Germans,” as he called the scientific educated experts.  He was the pure essence of the British manufacturer.  He refused to make what the market wanted, unless the market happened to want what he wanted to make.  He hated to understand the reasons underlying the processes of manufacture, or to do anything which had not been regularly done for at least fifty years.  And he accepted orders like insults.  The wonder was, not that he did so little business, but that he did so much.  Still, people did respect him.  His aunt Maldon, with her skilled habit of finding good points in mankind, had thought that he must be remarkably intelligent because he was so rude.

Beyond a vague rumour that Julian had established a general pottery agency in Cape Town with favourable prospects, no further news of him had reached England.  But of course it was admitted that his inheritance had definitely saved the business, and also much improved his situation in the eyes of the community ...  And now he had achieved a reappearance which in mysteriousness excelled even his absence.

“So you see we’re installed here,” said Louis, when he had finished with the fire.

“Aye!” muttered Julian dryly, and shut his lips.

Louis tried no more conversational openings.  He was afraid.  He waited for Julian’s initiative as for an earthquake; for he knew now at the roots of his soul that the phrasing of the note was misleading, and that Julian had come to charge him with having misappropriated the sum of nine hundred and sixty-five pounds.  He had, in reality, surmised as much on first reading the note, but somehow he had managed to put away the surmise as absurd and incredible.