Chapter 8 - Page 2

Robert himself, his work and his surroundings were becoming more
and more irksome. His joy in his art had become less keen since he had
known Raffles Haw. It seemed so hard to toll and slave to earn such a
trifling sum, when money could really be had for the asking. It was
true that he had asked for none, but large sums were for ever passing
through his hands for those who were needy, and if he were needy himself
his friend would surely not grudge it to him. So the Roman galleys
still remained faintly outlined upon the great canvas, while Robert's
days were spent either in the luxurious library at the Hall, or in
strolling about the country listening to tales of trouble, and returning
like a tweed-suited ministering angel to carry Raffles Haw's help to the
unfortunate. It was not an ambitious life, but it was one which was
very congenial to his weak and easy-going nature.

Robert had observed that fits of depression had frequently come upon the
millionaire, and it had sometimes struck him that the enormous sums
which he spent had possibly made a serious inroad into his capital, and
that his mind was troubled as to the future. His abstracted manner, his
clouded brow, and his bent head all spoke of a soul which was weighed
down with care, and it was only in Laura's presence that he could throw
off the load of his secret trouble. For five hours a day he buried
himself in the laboratory and amused himself with his hobby, but it was
one of his whims that no one, neither any of his servants, nor even
Laura or Robert, should ever cross the threshold of that outlying
building. Day after day he vanished into it, to reappear hours
afterwards pale and exhausted, while the whirr of machinery and the
smoke which streamed from his high chimney showed how considerable were
the operations which he undertook single-handed.

"Could I not assist you in any way?" suggested Robert, as they sat
together after luncheon in the smoking-room. "I am convinced that you
over-try your strength. I should be so glad to help you, and I know a
little of chemistry."

"Do you, indeed?" said Raffles Haw, raising his eyebrows. "I had no
idea of that; it is very seldom that the artistic and the scientific
faculties go together."

"I don't know that I have either particularly developed. But I have
taken classes, and I worked for two years in the laboratory at Sir
Josiah Mason's Institute."

"I am delighted to hear it," Haw replied with emphasis. "That may be of
great importance to us. It is very possible--indeed, almost certain--
that I shall avail myself of your offer of assistance, and teach you
something of my chemical methods, which I may say differ