All the same, Shiel determined that he would for once fare like the
hero in romance--that he would either win the object of his affections
or perish in the attempt; and no sooner did the fit of the blues,
consequent on the conversation just related, wear off, than he set to
work in grim earnest to discover some means of breaking up the Modern
Sorcery Company Ltd., and of restoring to the firm of Martin and
Davenport their former prestige. In the meanwhile, affairs were by no means stationary, as far as Hamar
and his colleagues were concerned. The appearance of their paper
_To-morrow_, a morning journal, that chronicled faithfully every event
of the following day, caused a tremendous sensation; and the sale of
every other paper sank to nil--no one, naturally, wanting to buy the
news that had happened yesterday, when, for the same money, they could
obtain news of what would happen that very day. The stupid method of
chronicling past events, Hamar announced in the first issue of his
organ, was now obsolete. It was, perhaps, good enough for the
Victorian era, but it was utterly out of keeping with the present age
of hourly progress. Who, for instance, wanted to know that at 6 p.m.,
on the preceding evening, there had been a big fire in New York? Was
it not far more to the point for them to learn, for example, that at 2
p.m., on that very day, Rio de Janeiro would be partially destroyed by
an earthquake; that the Post Office in King's Road, Chelsea, would be
broken into by thieves; that Nelson's Monument in Trafalgar Square
would be blown up by Suffragettes; or something equally fresh and
exciting? One cannot get thrills--at least not the right kind of
thrills in reading of what has already taken place. To say to
ourselves, or to a friend, "Just fancy, we might have been in that
railway accident," or, in reading of a shipwreck "What a mercy we did
not embark after all, is it not?" is not half as enthralling as to be
wondering if, at eleven o'clock that night, when the terrific storm in
which twenty-six people will be killed by lightning in various parts
of England, we shall be among the fatal number. One is not much moved
to find oneself alive when a danger is passed, but one does get
terribly excited in contemplating the risk we are bound to run of
being killed. Within a week, the circulation of _To-morrow_ had gone
up from fifty thousand to ten million, and Hamar, inflated with
success, said to himself, "Now I will go and have another look at John
Martin." When he arrived, Gladys was in the garden. His stealthy approach had
given her no chance to escape. "What is your business?" she asked, glancing nervously in the
direction of the house, and dreading lest her father should see Hamar
from his window. "I've come to see your father," Hamar said, his eyes resting
admiringly on her face and then running leisurely over her figure. "How is the old gentleman?" "He is not well enough to see visitors," Gladys said, with absolute
hauteur. "Perhaps you will state your business to me." "Well! I don't mind if I do!" Hamar replied. "Let us sit down. It's
more comfortable than standing." And he dropped into a seat as he
spoke. "Now I've been noticing," he went on, "that your Show in the
Kingsway is not getting on very well--that there are fewer and fewer
people there every night, and I've no doubt it will soon have to dry
up altogether. We, on the other hand, are doing better and better
every night, and we shall go on doing better--there is no limit to our
possibilities. We are worth half a million now--next year, we shall be
worth ten times that amount!" "You are optimistical, at all events," Gladys said. "I can afford to be," Hamar grinned. "Now, do you know what we intend
doing before very long?" "I haven't the least idea, and I am not in the slightest degree
curious." "Aren't you? Well, you should be, since it concerns you. We mean to
buy up the whole of Kingsway!" "And later on, of course, the whole of Regent Street!" "You are satirical. You are not alarmed at the prospect of having me
for a landlord!" "I don't understand you! The Hall in Kingsway is my father's own
property." "If that is so then you have nothing to fear," Hamar laughed, "but I
think it just possible you are mistaken. At any rate, I've been in
communication with some one styling himself the landlord." "My father would have an agreement, anyhow!" Gladys said. "Of course," Hamar replied, "and I've a pretty shrewd idea of the
terms of it. But enough of this--let me come to the point. I intend
buying the property, and I shall refuse to renew your father's lease,
unless he agrees to give me what I want!" "Of course a preposterous price?" "No, you--only you!" "Me!" "Yes! I've never seen a girl I like more. I've limitless wealth and
I'll give you everything you want--a steam yacht, motors, diamonds,
anything, everything, and all I ask in return is that you should
consent to be engaged to me on trial--say for fifteen months--just to
see how we get on! What pretty hands you have." And before Gladys could draw them away, he had caught hold of them in
an iron grasp, and, turning them over, cast admiring glances at the
slim, white fingers with the long, almond-shaped and carefully
manicured nails. "I reckon," he said, "I shall never find any one prettier all through. What do you say?" "Your proposition is impossible--monstrous! I detest you," Gladys
retorted, her cheeks white with anger. "Leave go my hands at once, and
never let me see you again!" "I can't promise not to see you again," Hamar said, "but I'll let go
your hands now, for I'm no more a lover of scenes than you. I
anticipated a little fuss at first--it's the way all you women
have--you are so modest, you don't like to appear too eager to snap up
a good offer. You'll close with it right enough in the end. I'll call
again in a few days. By that time you may have changed your mind." And, before she could prevent him, he had again seized her hand and
was kissing it over and over again. With an ejaculation of the utmost indignation, she sprang away from
him, and with all the dignity she could assume, walked to the house. What became of him she did not know. Some few seconds later she told
the gardener to see him safely off the premises, but he was nowhere to
be found. A week later, Hamar turned up again at the Cottage, and, despite the
vigilance of Gladys and the servants, caught John Martin alone. When the latter, at last, came to the end of what had, at first,
seemed an inexhaustible stock of invectives, Hamar stated his
proposals with mathematical exactitude. "I don't believe for one moment my landlord would be such a blackguard
as to play into your hands," John Martin spluttered. "Oh, yes, he would!" Hamar replied. "An Englishman will do anything
for money, and I am prepared to offer him just twice as much as any
one else for your Hall. Do you think he will refuse--not he!" "But what on earth's your object! You've ruined me already." "Your daughter!" Hamar cried.