es 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