“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.