"I have decided," she said faintly, "to--to--give in." "You accept me, then?" Hamar said. "Y-yes!" "When may I see you?" "When you like." "Then I'll come at once," Hamar replied. "_Au revoir._"

But Hamar, when he arrived at the Cottage, did not realize any of the
gleeful anticipations he had indulged in _en route_. Gladys was
ill--so Miss Templeton informed him--at the same time begging him, if
he really had any regard for Miss Martin, not to ask to see her for
the next few days; and to this request Hamar, seeing no alternative,
was obliged to assent. Shortly after he had gone, Shiel Davenport called, and found Gladys
alone in the garden. "I've been told that your father is ill," he said, "and should like to
hear better news of him. How is he?" "I think he's all right now," Gladys replied, "but he has suffered
frightfully. Indeed, we've all had a terrible time," And she told him
what had happened. "Then you've not been acting at the Imperial lately?" Shiel asked. "Not for the past week," Gladys replied. "I couldn't leave father." "How has Mr. Bromley Burnham got on without you?" Shiel asked
bitterly. "I don't understand you," Gladys said quietly. "I have an understudy,
and from what I am told she has given every satisfaction. I have some
news which I fear won't be altogether welcome to you." Shiel turned a shade paler. "What is it?" he faltered. "I'm engaged to be married." For a few moments there was silence, and then Shiel exclaimed
mechanically "Engaged to be married! To whom?" "To Leon Hamar! I couldn't help it." And she explained the position. "But he'll never keep you to it," Shiel said. "He couldn't be such a
brute." "I'm afraid he will," Gladys replied. "He's shown pretty clearly that
he's capable of anything. I've given him my promise--I must keep it." "Then it's good-bye to all interest in life--for me," Shiel said, with
a gulp. "I've thought of no one but you since we first met. For
you--in the hope of someday winning you, I've struggled on; I've
reconciled myself to a bare existence. Now I've lost you, I've lost
everything. I hate life. I shall--"

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Gladys interrupted, "unless you want
me to regret ever having met you. I wonder that you say 'I've nothing
to live for'--when we can still be friends; and when you can, at
least, win my respect, by putting your shoulder to the wheel, and
exerting yourself to the utmost to get on." "And you--what about you?" "Never mind me--I can well look after myself." "You'll live in Hell," Shiel cried, her eyes goading him to madness. "Even though you may not care for me, I do not choose to stand quietly
by, whilst you spend your life in Purgatory. Hamar has won you through
some diabolical trickery, and if I can't thwart him in any other
way--I'll kill him. He shan't marry you." "He will," Gladys sighed. "No one can stop him. He is omnipotent." Apparently, Gladys's statement was more or less true; and ninety-nine
men out of a hundred, in the same circumstances as Shiel, would have
now recognized the hopelessness of the situation. But Shiel was
abnormal. As he walked home from the Cottage that evening he kept on
repeating to himself "Gladys is my goal. I want only Gladys. I'll have
only Gladys." And having once made up his mind to get Gladys, it
seemed to him, as if out of every obstacle, that lay between him and
Gladys, he could and would merely make a stepping-stone. "Since," he
argued to himself, "all's fair in love and war, I'll win Gladys
through another woman." And he straightway telephoned to Lilian Rosenberg to have tea with
him. The latter had already made an engagement for the afternoon; but, all
the same, she accepted Shiel's invitation. "Will you do me a favour?" he asked. "If it is anything that lies in my power," she said. "What is it?" "I want you to find out how Hamar works his spells. I asked you
before?" "I know you did and I've not forgotten," Lilian said, "but I have to
be very careful. I've played the part of eavesdropper once or twice,
and heard enough to confirm me in my suspicions that Hamar is in touch
with evil, occult powers. I've heard him praying aloud to them on more
than one occasion, and I've also a shrewd idea he performs, at least,
some of his spells by means of wax images. But why do you want to
know?" "Only curiosity. I am intensely interested in the occult." "You don't want to start a rival show, do you?" Lilian asked
jestingly. "With a maximum capital of two pounds--and a minimum of knowledge!" Shiel laughed. "Hardly. I wish I could. I would offer you the post of
manageress." "Partner!" "Well, partner, if you like. Would you take it?" "Perhaps!" she said, looking at him with a sudden shyness. "What a
pity you are not rich. Can't you get a post that would bring you in
about £200 a year for a start? I believe you really want something to
stimulate you, to make you work in grim earnest--then you would
succeed. There's grit in you--I love grit--but at present it's latent,
it wants bringing out." "You are very kind," Shiel said, "but I'm afraid I'm a hopeless case,
and, being such, have no business to be in your company. Will you come
to the theatre with me?" "The theatre! When you've no business to be in my company, and when it
is as much as you can do to pay the rent of a back attic!" "Oh, never mind that. I've had tickets given me. I've been doing odd
bits of journalism lately, and a dramatic critic I know has given me
two stalls at the Imperial!" "The Imperial!" Lilian Rosenberg ejaculated. "That's where Gladys
Martin is acting, surely! I can't bear her!" "She's not the only person in the cast," Shiel observed drily, "and
the play's a good one! Do come!" With a little more persuasion Shiel gained her consent; and both he
and she enjoyed the play, or more correctly speaking, the occasion,
immensely. So long as Gladys was on the stage Shiel's eyes never once
left her; whilst throughout the performance Lilian Rosenberg saw only
Shiel, thought only of Shiel. The interest she had taken in him, the
interest she had so confidently asserted was only interest, had grown
apace--had grown out of all recognition. It needed only a fillip now
to convert that interest into something warmer; and the fillip was not
long in coming. Shiel was seeing Lilian home to her lodgings in Margaret Terrace, a
turning off Oakley Street, when a man knocked a woman down right in
front of them. He was just the ordinary type of street ruffian--the
whitewashed English labourer--and the woman, having without doubt been
served by him in the same manner fifty times before, was probably well
used to such treatment. But it was more than Shiel, who had spent so
much of his life where they treat women differently, could stand, and
before Lilian Rosenberg had time to remonstrate, he had rushed up to
the prostrate woman, and was holding the man at bay. A scuffle now
began, in which the woman, whom Shiel had helped to regain her feet,
joined.