I've never
heard Dick mention any one else. Poor old Dick!"
"I am so sorry, father!" Gladys said, laying her hand on his. "But
cheer up! It may not be as bad as you expect. Shall you go and see how
he is?"
"I think so, my dear! I think so," John Martin replied, "but don't
worry me about it now. Talk to your aunt and leave me out of it, I'm a
bit upset. My brain's in a regular whirl!"
Undoubtedly the news was something in the nature of a blow: for Dick
Davenport, apart from being John Martin's partner--partner in the firm
of Martin and Davenport, the world-renowned conjurors, whose hall in
the Kingsway was one of the chief amusement places in London, was John
Martin's oldest friend. They had been chums at Cheltenham College, had
entered the Army and gone to India together, had quitted the Service
together, and, on returning together to England, had started their
conjuring business, first of all in Sloane Street, and subsequently in
the Kingsway. From the very start their enterprise had met with
success, and, had it not been for Davenport's wild extravagance, they
would have been little short of millionaires. But Davenport, though a
most lovable character in every respect, could not keep money--he no
sooner had it than it was gone. His house in Sydenham was little short
of a palace; whilst, it was said, he almost rivalled royalty, in
magnificent display, whenever he entertained. The result of all this
reckless expenditure was no uncommon one--he ran through considerably
more than he earned and--as there was no one else to help him--he
invariably came down on John Martin.
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