Then he returned to his chair, and, leaning back in it, was seeing
once again in his mind's eye the fair face of the girl who had just
left him, when there was a rap at the door, and the commissionaire
announced Miss Martin. "Another of them," Kelson said to himself. "And about as pretty in her
way as the last. Now I wonder what she wants." He looked closely at
her, but no past rose up before him--as far as this client was
concerned his power of divination in that direction was nil--she was a
blank. "I've come to ask you the meaning of a dream I had last night," she
began, inwardly shuddering at the sight of so much pomade and
jewellery. "Yes," he said with an encouraging smile, "what was it?" Of course she did not tell him all, but merely that she had dreamed of
certain flowers and trees as, curiously enough, so had her father. Kelson looked at her thoughtfully. Once he opened his mouth to speak
and then checked himself; and it was some seconds before he actually
broke silence. "Taken separately," he said at last, "the ash tree portends an
unexpected visit; a poppy, a visit from a man; red roses, falling in
love; lilac, a present; a willow, kisses--heaps of them; bluebells, a
proposal; brambles, difficulties in the way--for example, tiresome
relatives; buttercups, a marriage; an ash tree, a son and heir--a dear
little----"

"Thank you!" Gladys remarked, rising frigidly. Thank you! I will go
now. What is your fee?" "I trust, madam, you are pleased," Kelson said in great distress. "Will you kindly take your fee and let me out," Gladys demanded, as he
nervously placed himself in her way. "Thank you. Good morning!" And as she swept regally past him and down the stone passage, Hamar
came out of his room and passed by her on his way to Kelson's office. "Ye gods!" he exclaimed, eyeing the discomfited Kelson wrathfully. "What in the world have you done to offend the lady? I never saw any
one look so angry in my life. D--n it all! I hope you didn't insult
her!" "It was all your fault!" Kelson wailed. "She asked me to tell her the
meaning of a dream which was brimful of warnings against us." "Against us!" "Yes, against us! I have never listened to such admonitions in a dream
before. She must have some very friendly spirits watching over her. Well! what was I to do? I did my best. Mindful of what you said to me
a short time ago, I put her entirely off the track; gave her an
entirely misleading--and as I thought very pleasant--interpretation of
the dream." "What did you say?" Kelson told him. "Jackass!" Hamar exclaimed. "Jackass! You were far too broad. What
pleases a San Francisco girl shocks a London lady. For goodness sake
have more tact another time, we don't want to get into hot water. I
feel quite convinced that if any harm befalls us--if that compact is
in any way broken--it will be through you. I wish to heaven the
Unknown had given you some other power." "So do I," Kelson groaned. "At all events," Hamar went on, "the first three months is nearly at
an end. Who was she?" "Miss Gladys Martin!" "Where does she live?" "I don't know. I could divine nothing about her. She can't have any
vices." "I don't suppose she has," Hamar remarked dryly, "Not from the look of
her anyway. But there is time yet. Matt! I've taken a fancy to that
girl and I mean to get hold of her somehow. I wonder if she is related
to Martin--Davenport's partner! Jerusalem! What sport if she is!" "Why? Why sport?" Kelson asked. "Dolt! Don't you see! Martin is at our mercy. We are more than his
rivals. We can drive him out of London any moment we like. His tricks
indeed! Pshaw! Curtis can do them all right off the reel! And Curtis
shall--we will show Martin up--make a laughing stock of him--ruin him! Unless--unless--"

"Unless what?" "Great Scott! Don't look so alarmed! Unless--supposing that girl is
his daughter--unless he gives me permission to pay my addresses to
her!" --and Hamar laughed coarsely. CHAPTER XI

LEON HAMAR CALLS ON THE MARTINS


"Where's Gladys?" John Martin asked as he rose with an effort, stiff
and tired, from the remains of a meat tea. In reply Miss Templeton merely pointed a finger--and went on
crocheting. Following the direction indicated, John Martin stepped out on to the
lawn, and glancing round the garden, called "Gladys!" Then he
listened, and there came to him snatches of a song, the words of
which, full of arch sentiment, allied with (and to a large extent
dependent on), a unique knowledge of and love of nature--would not
have disgraced a Herrick or a Raleigh--the music--a Schubert, or a
Sullivan. John Martin had spared no money in educating Gladys, and she
did him credit. He thought so now, as exhausted from a hard day's
poring over letters, he paused and leaned his back against a tree. A
gentle breeze blew her notes to him, full of melody and mirth; fresh
and young and tender--as tender as the rosebuds and violets that
nestled at her bosom. "By Jove!" John Martin murmured. "Fancy my having a daughter like
Gladys! I ought to be jolly well pleased. And so I am. The only thing
I fear, is, that she'll marry some one who isn't half good enough for
her! But who would be good enough for her! God alone knows! And God
alone knows whether she or I ought to decide! Gladys!" "Hulloa! ", and the next moment a vision in pink emerged from the
bushes. "Gladys, I want to confide in you!" "What's wrong, Daddy, dear?" Gladys said, thrusting an arm through his
and walking him gently along with her through the glade. "You weren't
at all nice to me when we parted this morning, but you look so wearied
that I'll be magnanimous and forgive you. What is it?" "Why it's like this!'" John Martin said, putting his arm round her and
holding her close to him, as he used to do when, a little girl, she
came sidling up to him for sugar-plums. "Poor Dick's affairs are in a
terrible muddle. Unknown to me he speculated right and left, and he
has not only muddled through everything he had, but he has left a
number of debts, and unfortunately I have to meet them." "You, Father! But why you?" Gladys cried. "Because they were incurred in the name of the Firm. I can meet them
all right, but it will be a big drain on my resources. That's worry
number one. Worry number two is about young Davenport--Shiel. I don't
know what to do about him. He was entirely dependent on Dick. His work
as an artist doesn't bring him in enough to keep him in tobacco, and
the worst of it is he doesn't seem capable of turning his hand to
anything else; I can't see him starve, so I shall have to allow him
something." "He seemed to me very intelligent," Gladys observed, "couldn't you
take him into the Firm? Who are you going to have in his uncle's
place?" "That's the trouble!" John Martin replied. "I do feel I want some one. I am getting on in years, my brain is not so vigorous as it used to
be, and I can't go on inventing fresh tricks _ad infinitum_. Moreover,
I need assistance in the purely business side of the concern.