LOVE
To bring about plagues of insects Hamar had resorted to a very simple
method. He had first of all made a wax image representing a
cockroach--scorpion--centipede, or whatever other species came into
his mind. Then, placing the image he had made in front of him, and
repeating the prayer he had learned from the Unknown, through the
medium of Mrs. Anderson-Waite's table, he had concentrated body, soul,
and spirit on plaguing Gladys with the insect, which the image
represented. When his concentration reached the highest degree,
insects in their actual physical bodies were transported from the
tropics;[23] but when he was unable to concentrate to the utmost, only
the ethereal projections of the insects were obtainable; hence the
hybrid--partly scorpion and partly beetle, that appeared and
disappeared in Gladys's bed and bedroom.
To produce the rappings on the walls of Gladys's room, he had made a
wax representation of a wall, and whilst concentrating to the very
utmost, had struck it with his knuckles.
The plaguing of the servants Hamar had also accomplished by means of
images and concentration.
But in order to bewitch milk, he had been obliged to resort to other
means. He had converted the mumia of an idiot into a magnes
microcosmi; and bribing the man who delivered the milk, he gave him
instructions to soak the magnes microcosmi, for a few minutes, in
every portion that he left at the Cottage.[24]
At length Hamar having failed to gain his object by plaguing Gladys
and the servants, set about tormenting John Martin. He made a wax
image of the latter, and after pronouncing the necessary prayer, stuck
the image full of pins, crying out as he did so "John Martin, I hate
you. John Martin, I curse you. John Martin, a plague on you." And each
time Hamar stuck a pin in the image he had made of John Martin, the
real John Martin felt an acute pain in the region of his body
corresponding to that in which the pin was stuck.
The doctor, who was called in, could make nothing of the malady, but,
following the etiquette of the profession, cloaked his ignorance with
a look of profound wisdom, and the pronouncement that he would tell
them, in a day or two, what was the matter. In the meanwhile, he found
it necessary and politic to prescribe a non-committal mixture of chalk
and rhubarb, which, although disguised under the usual fanciful
pharmacopoeia appellation, did not, however, allay the pain. Sharp,
agonizing pricks, now on the neck now in the chest, now in the most
sensitive part of the knee-cap, now under the toe-nail, now--most
painful of all--under the finger-nail--continued to torment John
Martin, who, though as a rule fairly stoical, could not stand these
attacks with any degree of composure. He screamed, and swore, and
cursed, until the whole household was terrified--and Gladys, pretty
nearly out of her mind.
During a lull--an interval, wherein John Martin enjoyed a brief
respite, the telephone bell rang.
"Hulloa," called a voice, "I'm Hamar. Haven't you had about enough of
it? Remember, you've only to say the word and I'll stop."
"Tell him I'll do nothing of the sort," John Martin said, "that he'll
never get the better of me this way."
Miss Templeton gave the message, and Hamar replied "Wait! Wait and
see!"
He then thrust wool, pins, horsenails, straw, needles and moss into
the mouth of the image, and John Martin had such frightful pains in
his stomach that he went into convulsions; and, after an emetic had
been given him, vomited up all the above-named articles, save the pins
and needles which worked their way out through his flesh, causing him
the most exquisite tortures.
Gladys, having given up going to the theatre in order to be with her
father during these attacks, now declared that she could no longer
bear to see him in such excruciating pain, whilst it was in her power
to prevent it.
"Tell him," she said, "tell Hamar you'll accept his conditions. Don't
think of me! I would rather do anything than see you suffer like
this."
"I can hold out a bit longer," he groaned, "at any rate I needn't give
in yet."
Every now and then there came a respite--perhaps for several hours,
perhaps for several days--then the tortures recommenced. And always
John Martin steeled himself to bear them. At last came the climax.
Hamar, infuriated that his efforts, so far, had proved fruitless,
resolved, since time was pressing, to play his trump card and either
win, or lose all. He rang up Gladys on the telephone.
"My patience is exhausted," he said. "I'll give you one more chance,
and one--only. Agree to be engaged to me at once--or I'll smite your
father with the most virulent form of cancer, and leave him to die."
There was no question now in Gladys's mind as to what she should do.
Of all things in the world, she dreaded cancer most, and after the
many evidences Hamar had given her of his skill in Black Magic, she
did not doubt for one instant that he could, immediately he chose,
carry out his threat.
"I have decided," she said faintly, "to--to--give in."
"You accept me, then?" Hamar said.
"Y-yes!"
"When may I see you?"
"When you like."
"Then I'll come at once," Hamar replied. "_Au revoir._"
But Hamar, when he arrived at the Cottage, did not realize any of the
gleeful anticipations he had indulged in _en route_. Gladys was
ill--so Miss Templeton informed him--at the same time begging him, if
he really had any regard for Miss Martin, not to ask to see her for
the next few days; and to this request Hamar, seeing no alternative,
was obliged to assent.
Shortly after he had gone, Shiel Davenport called, and found Gladys
alone in the garden.
"I've been told that your father is ill," he said, "and should like to
hear better news of him. How is he?"
"I think he's all right now," Gladys replied, "but he has suffered
frightfully. Indeed, we've all had a terrible time," And she told him
what had happened.
"Then you've not been acting at the Imperial lately?" Shiel asked.
"Not for the past week," Gladys replied. "I couldn't leave father."
"How has Mr. Bromley Burnham got on without you?" Shiel asked
bitterly.
"I don't understand you," Gladys said quietly. "I have an understudy,
and from what I am told she has given every satisfaction. I have some
news which I fear won't be altogether welcome to you."
Shiel turned a shade paler. "What is it?" he faltered.
"I'm engaged to be married."
For a few moments there was silence, and then Shiel exclaimed
mechanically "Engaged to be married! To whom?"
"To Leon Hamar! I couldn't help it." And she explained the position.
"But he'll never keep you to it," Shiel said. "He couldn't be such a
brute."
"I'm afraid he will," Gladys replied. "He's shown pretty clearly that
he's capable of anything. I've given him my promise--I must keep it."
"Then it's good-bye to all interest in life--for me," Shiel said, with
a gulp. "I've thought of no one but you since we first met. For
you--in the hope of someday winning you, I've struggled on; I've
reconciled myself to a bare existence. Now I've lost you, I've lost
everything. I hate life. I shall--"
"You'll do nothing of the sort," Gladys interrupted, "unless you want
me to regret ever having met you. I wonder that you say 'I've nothing
to live for'--when we can still be friends; and when you can, at
least, win my respect, by putting your shoulder to the wheel, and
exerting yourself to the utmost to get on."
"And you--what about you?"
"Never mind me--I can well look after myself."
"You'll live in Hell," Shiel cried, her eyes goading him to madness.
"Even though you may not care for me, I do not choose to stand quietly
by, whilst you spend your life in Purgatory. Hamar has won you through
some diabolical trickery, and if I can't thwart him in any other
way--I'll kill him. He shan't marry you."
"He will," Gladys sighed. "No one can stop him. He is omnipotent."
Apparently, Gladys's statement was more or less true; and ninety-nine
men out of a hundred, in the same circumstances as Shiel, would have
now recognized the hopelessness of the situation. But Shiel was
abnormal. As he walked home from the Cottage that evening he kept on
repeating to himself "Gladys is my goal. I want only Gladys. I'll have
only Gladys." And having once made up his mind to get Gladys, it
seemed to him, as if out of every obstacle, that lay between him and
Gladys, he could and would merely make a stepping-stone. "Since," he
argued to himself, "all's fair in love and war, I'll win Gladys
through another woman."
And he straightway telephoned to Lilian Rosenberg to have tea with
him.
The latter had already made an engagement for the afternoon; but, all
the same, she accepted Shiel's invitation.
"Will you do me a favour?" he asked.
"If it is anything that lies in my power," she said. "What is it?"
"I want you to find out how Hamar works his spells. I asked you
before?"
"I know you did and I've not forgotten," Lilian said, "but I have to
be very careful. I've played the part of eavesdropper once or twice,
and heard enough to confirm me in my suspicions that Hamar is in touch
with evil, occult powers. I've heard him praying aloud to them on more
than one occasion, and I've also a shrewd idea he performs, at least,
some of his spells by means of wax images. But why do you want to
know?"
"Only curiosity. I am intensely interested in the occult."
"You don't want to start a rival show, do you?" Lilian asked
jestingly.
"With a maximum capital of two pounds--and a minimum of knowledge!"
Shiel laughed. "Hardly. I wish I could. I would offer you the post of
manageress."
"Partner!"
"Well, partner, if you like. Would you take it?"
"Perhaps!" she said, looking at him with a sudden shyness. "What a
pity you are not rich. Can't you get a post that would bring you in
about £200 a year for a start? I believe you really want something to
stimulate you, to make you work in grim earnest--then you would
succeed. There's grit in you--I love grit--but at present it's latent,
it wants bringing out."
"You are very kind," Shiel said, "but I'm afraid I'm a hopeless case,
and, being such, have no business to be in your company. Will you come
to the theatre with me?"
"The theatre! When you've no business to be in my company, and when it
is as much as you can do to pay the rent of a back attic!"
"Oh, never mind that. I've had tickets given me. I've been doing odd
bits of journalism lately, and a dramatic critic I know has given me
two stalls at the Imperial!"
"The Imperial!" Lilian Rosenberg ejaculated. "That's where Gladys
Martin is acting, surely! I can't bear her!"
"She's not the only person in the cast," Shiel observed drily, "and
the play's a good one! Do come!"
With a little more persuasion Shiel gained her consent; and both he
and she enjoyed the play, or more correctly speaking, the occasion,
immensely. So long as Gladys was on the stage Shiel's eyes never once
left her; whilst throughout the performance Lilian Rosenberg saw only
Shiel, thought only of Shiel. The interest she had taken in him, the
interest she had so confidently asserted was only interest, had grown
apace--had grown out of all recognition. It needed only a fillip now
to convert that interest into something warmer; and the fillip was not
long in coming.
Shiel was seeing Lilian home to her lodgings in Margaret Terrace, a
turning off Oakley Street, when a man knocked a woman down right in
front of them. He was just the ordinary type of street ruffian--the
whitewashed English labourer--and the woman, having without doubt been
served by him in the same manner fifty times before, was probably well
used to such treatment. But it was more than Shiel, who had spent so
much of his life where they treat women differently, could stand, and
before Lilian Rosenberg had time to remonstrate, he had rushed up to
the prostrate woman, and was holding the man at bay. A scuffle now
began, in which the woman, whom Shiel had helped to regain her feet,
joined. Both man and woman now attacked Shiel, who, placing himself
with his back against the railings, defended himself as best he could.
The hour was late, there were no police about, and it seemed only too
probable that the fracas would end in a tragedy. The labourer was a
burly fellow, shorter than Shiel, but far broader and heavier, and any
one could see at a glance that Shiel stood no chance against him.
Lilian Rosenberg, at her wits' end to know what to do, ran into Oakley
Street, and as there was no one in sight, she made for the nearest
lighted house and rang the bell furiously. A man came to the door,
whom, unheeding his expostulations, she caught by the arm and dragged
into the street.
They arrived on the scene of action, just as the ruffian, breaking
through Shiel's guard, struck him a terrific blow on the forehead,
which sent him reeling against the railings. The newcomer (upon whom,
both man and woman, seeing Shiel incapacitated, instantly turned)
would probably have shared the same fate, had not the occupants of
several of the neighbouring houses--amongst whom were some half-dozen
athletic young men--roused by the noise, come out into the street, and
the ruffian and his companion, seeing the odds were against them,
decamped.
Shiel had not fully regained consciousness, when Lilian Rosenberg,
regardless of propriety, led him into her sitting-room, bathed his
forehead, dosed him with brandy, and making up a bed for him on the
sofa, bade him rest there, till the morning.
When he took his departure, he had quite recovered, and Lilian
Rosenberg had, at last, realized that she loved him.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 23: There is no doubt that Moses inflicted the plagues,
with which he tormented Pharaoh, in this way.]
[Footnote 24: In stage two this might have been performed by
ethereal projection, but Hamar could not resort to this method as
the power of projection had now passed from him.]