He marked the arrival of Gerald Rosenberg. His faculties, sharpened to the point of brilliance by his own keen personal hatred, discerned the situation between the two young people. Upon the upshot of it depended all his own plans. If Gerald hesitated--if he took time for reflection--then Gaunt would have a chance to carry out a scheme of retribution more complete than anything of which he had yet dreamed. In his pocket was a letter from his old love--a letter which he described to himself as loathsome. It told him, practically, that she was his for the asking. What a buffet in the face for her, if he should propose for her daughter! And what a hold upon the entire family if he could catch the mercenary young adventuress, and keep her caged, and mould her to his will! And it had all happened so marvellously according to his plan. He succeeded not merely as well as he hoped, but far more easily. He was met more than half-way, both by mother and daughter. Gerald Rosenberg had evidently hung fire. The dressed-up doll which looked so fair and innocent was ready to consent to the sale of herself--to the shameful bargain which he had proposed. So he had taken her hand--led her into the steel jaws of his trap. It had closed upon her, and she lay at the bottom, lacerated, helpless, awaiting the moment when her captor should come and devour her. He felt as might a hunter, who, having laid a snare for a man-eating tigress, comes creeping through the woods at dawn, and finds the pit occupied by a strayed lamb. From the moment of reading the two letters which yesterday had passed between the sisters, he knew that his weapon had broken in his hand. The dreadful thing was that, having made captive this helpless creature, towards whom his ill-will was no longer active, he was unable to release her. And what could he do with her? He had saddled himself for life with a female companion, of whom he had no need at all. What satisfaction could be derived from asserting his mastery over one so weak, so submissive, so--so confoundedly childish? As to making friends with her, the prospects of that were not encouraging. His treatment of her yesterday must have made a deep impression. Besides, he felt within himself no hankering at all after a _rapprochement_. Since his wife could not feed his hate, nor satisfy his vengeance, he had, quite frankly, no use for her. Yet she was there. What was he to do with her?