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."