The Sorcery Club Part 18

"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 coa.r.s.ely.

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 s.n.a.t.c.hes 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! G.o.d alone knows! And G.o.d 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 d.i.c.k'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--s.h.i.+el. I don't know what to do about him. He was entirely dependent on d.i.c.k. 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 a.s.sistance in the purely business side of the concern. I want some one who is both business-like and inventive--some one young, brilliant and reliable."

"You couldn't sell out I suppose?"

"No, not just at present. Thanks to poor old d.i.c.k the Firm is in rather a precarious condition! Another six months over, and we may be perfectly all right. No! I must stick on, and get another partner. And look here, Gladys, you know I let you do pretty nearly everything you like. But let me beg of you not to be too friendly with that young Davenport. I caught him looking very impressibly at you this morning, and I am quite sure, if he sees anything more of you, he will be falling head over ears in love. Which is the very last thing in the world I want!"

"That's making me out to be very attractive, Daddy," Gladys said, looking round at him mischievously.

"And so you are, dear!" John Martin said. "Wonderfully attractive! and none knows it better than yourself. But in this case you must think of consequences--consequences that might be disastrous to us all!

Confound it all, who's this? What on earth does he want?"

Gladys gazed in astonishment. A young and very smartly dressed man was advancing towards them with a soft, cat-like tread. He was of medium height and slim build. His head disproportionately large; his right ear standing out, in proof that it had long been used as a pen-rest; his nose p.r.o.nounced and Semitic in outline; his eyes, big, projecting and yellowish brown; his chin, retreating; his complexion, dark and saturnine.

Gladys s.h.i.+vered. "What a horrible person!" she whispered, "there is something positively uncanny about him. I feel cold all over and how he stares!"

"Yes--what is it?" John Martin demanded. "Do you want to see me?"

"You're Mr. Martin, I reckon!" the stranger replied in the soft drawl, characteristic of California. "I've come to have a little talk with you on business."

"With me--on business!" John Martin cried. "I don't know you! I've never seen you before!"

"You see me now anyway!" the stranger laughed, casting approving eyes at Gladys. "My name's Leon Hamar, and I've come to talk over that show of yours."

"D--n your impudence!" John Martin said, raising his stick threateningly. "How dare you intrude upon me here on such a pretext."

"Calmly, calmly, sir!" Hamar cried, his cheeks paling. "I've come here with every intention of being civil. I am chief partner in the Modern Sorcery Company Ltd., and as conjuring figures prominently in our programme I thought you might prefer to have us as friends rather than rivals."

"I'm sure my father need not fear your rivalry," Gladys broke in, meeting Hamar's admiring gaze stonily.

Hamar bowed.

"If," he said, "you desire a proof of our ability to accomplish what we profess, I will give that proof without delay. With your per--"

"You have no permission from me, sir," John Martin cried fiercely.

"Go!"

Hamar merely shrugged his shoulders. "You ought not to get so heated,"

he said, "considering that exactly twenty feet below where you are standing is a spring. All you have to do is to mark the spot, and sink a well, and there will be no need for you to use the Company's water.

As you are probably aware, spring water is a thousand times clearer and purer. Also," he went on, stepping hastily back as John Martin again raised his stick, "in the trunk of that elm over yonder is a hollow about eight feet from the ground, and if you look inside it, you will discover an iron box full of curios and jewellery. Shall I--"

"No!" retorted John Martin. "If you don't go instantly I'll send for the police,"--and Hamar, coming to the conclusion that upon this occasion discretion was better than valour, hurriedly beat a retreat.

"You'll be sorry, John Martin!" he shouted from a safe distance, "and so will Miss Gladys, charming Miss Gladys. But remember you have only yourselves to blame. Ta-ta!", and the next moment he was lost to sight.

"Well!" Gladys e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "of all the beastly cads I have ever seen he fairly takes the biscuit. What colossal cheek! The idea of his coming here and speaking to us like that! Can't we prosecute him, Father?"

"Hardly!" John Martin replied, "best leave him alone. I wish he hadn't come! He's upset me! My nerves are anyhow! Which was the tree he spoke about?"

"This one," Gladys exclaimed, walking up to an elm, and patting it with her hand, "but you surely don't believe what he said, do you? It was all rubbish from start to finish. Daddy, my dear old Daddy, I do believe you are worrying about it."

"Hold my hat and stick a moment," John Martin said, and making a spring, which for one of his age and weight showed surprising agility, he succeeded in catching hold of one of the nearest lateral branches.

The elm being old, the bark had become very gnarled and uneven, and thus the difficulty of ascension lay more in semblance, perhaps, than in reality. Embracing the huge trunk, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, much to the detriment of his clothes, seizing with his hands some projections, and resting his feet upon others, John Martin, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the first great fork, and paused to wipe his forehead.