"I am displeased with you for thinking so little of yourself," Gladys
said, "and more than obliged to you for thinking so much of me. You
know I only consented to marry Mr. Hamar to save my father--and you
say he no longer has the power to work spells?" "I believe that to be a fact," Shiel replied. "Then he lied to me!" Gladys observed. "He threatened that unless I
saw him as often as he wished, and went with him wherever he wanted,
and a good many more things, he would inflict my father with every
conceivable disease. You are quite sure your information is correct?" "Absolutely!" "Then, thank God!" Gladys said with a great sigh of relief. "I shall
know how to act now." "You will break off your engagement?" Shiel inquired eagerly. "No! I can't do that!" Gladys said sadly. "I've promised to marry Mr.
Hamar, and, therefore, marry him I must." "Promises made under such conditions are mere extortions, they don't
count." "I fear they do," Gladys replied. "I've never yet broken my word." "Then there's no hope for me," Shiel gasped. "I must go--it maddens me
to see you the affianced bride of that devil." He rose to go, but had hardly gained his feet, when his strength
utterly failed and he collapsed. Gladys helped him into a chair, and
then flew for some brandy. In the hall, she met her aunt, who had just
returned from an afternoon call. In a few words she explained what had
happened. "Poor young man," Miss Templeton said. "I thought he looked very ill
the last time I saw him. And he came here solely to benefit you! Well,
you have a good deal to answer for, and your face is not only your own
misfortune, but other people's too. But it will never do for your
father to see Mr. Davenport. He went off in a very bad temper this
morning, and if he comes back and finds him here, there'll be a
scene." Miss Templeton and Gladys consulted together for some minutes, and
then decided to send for a taxi and have Shiel conveyed back to his
rooms, Miss Templeton accompanying him. Miss Templeton knew that Shiel was poor, but like most people who have
lived in comfortable surroundings all their lives, she had no idea of
what poverty was like--the poverty of a seven-and-sixpenny a week room
in a back street; and when she saw it she nearly swooned. "Why this is a slum!" she ejaculated as the taxi stopped next door to
a fried fish shop in a narrow street swarming with children sucking
bread and jam, and rolling each other over in the gutters. "I don't wonder the man is ill here!" she said to herself, as the door
of the house they stopped at opened and she snuffed the atmosphere. "The place reeks--and--oh! gracious! is this the landlady?" Yet the woman was ordinary enough--the type of landlady one sees in
all back streets--greasy face, straggling hair, dirty blouse, black
hands, bitten fingernails, short skirts, prodigious feet, a grubby
child clinging on to her dress and every indication of the speedy
arrival of another. "I suppose you're 'is mother hain't you, mum?" she said, gaping at
Miss Templeton's rather fashionable clothes in open-mouthed wonder. "I
told 'im 'ee ought not to go out, but 'ee never 'eeds what I says." Miss Templeton, though not particularly flattered at being taken for
Shiel's mother--since, like most ladies of mature age, she wished to
be regarded as much younger--nevertheless, thought it better not to
disillusion the woman. The poor, she told herself, often have very
decided views on propriety. With the woman's aid she got Shiel
upstairs, and, as he was too feeble to undress himself, despite his
protestations, helped to disrobe him. She had thought, when she first
saw the slum, of returning to Kew at once, but she did no such thing. She stayed with Shiel; persuaded the landlady to make him some gruel
(which proved to be a sorry mess, but had at least the advantage of
being hot), and bribed one of the children to fetch the doctor. Shiel
nearly died. Had it not been for the careful nursing and good food
provided by Miss Templeton, who visited him every day, he would never
have turned the corner. "The poor boy is terribly fond of you," Miss Templeton said to Gladys. "In his delirium he talked of nothing but saving you from Leon
Hamar--from that devil Leon Hamar--and if one can place any reliance
at all, on the ravings of a sick man, a devil, Leon Hamar undoubtedly
is. What a pity it is Shiel hasn't money." These remarks were naturally not without effect on Gladys, and she
could not help growing more and more interested in the man, whose love
for her had proved so deep-rooted and ideal, that he had practically
sacrificed his life, in an attempt to serve her. Finally, she found
herself awaiting her aunt's daily report of his illness with an
anxiety that was almost acute. In the meanwhile, John Martin came home one evening in a rare state of
excitement. "What do you think!" he exclaimed, throwing a bundle of letters on the
table, "one of Dick's speculations has turned out trumps, after all. He had invested several thousands of pounds--in Shiel's name--in
enamel-ivorine, the new stuff for stopping teeth, which looks exactly
like part of the teeth. I remember I thought it an absurd venture at
the time, but for once in a way I was wrong--"

"Ahem!" interrupted Gladys. "There has been a sudden boom in the patent, every dentist is using
it, and, as a consequence, the shares have risen enormously. I've
heard from Dick's lawyer to-day that Shiel is now worth fifty thousand
pounds!" "Good heavens!" Miss Templeton ejaculated, "and Gladys has bound
herself to Hamar! I suppose," she said afterwards, when John Martin
and she were alone together, "that you would not have any objection to
Shiel now, if Gladys were free to marry him." "Certainly not!" John Martin said, "certainly not, I always liked
Shiel. A fine manly young fellow, very different to the type one
usually meets nowadays. I only wish Gladys were free!" "You would raise no obstacle to her becoming engaged to Shiel?" "None whatsoever! But what's the good of talking about an
impossibility. Gladys is stubbornness itself--when once she has made
up her mind to do a thing, nothing in God's world will make her not do
it." "Wait," Miss Templeton said, "wait and see. I think I can see a
possible way out of it." She had learned much from Shiel in his "wanderings." He had constantly
alluded to Hamar, Curtis, Kelson--and Lilian Rosenberg; to the great
compact, and to the one possible way of breaking that compact--namely
through the instigation of a quarrel between the trio. From several of
the statements he had made, Miss Templeton deduced that Kelson was
greatly under the influence of Lilian Rosenberg--and it was from these
statements that she finally received an inspiration. Miss Templeton saw deeper than Shiel--it had always been her custom to
read between the lines.