know very
well that Nero is as safe as a kitten to-night, that he never has two
smiling turns in the same week, much less the same day. Your act's the
next on the programme. Buck up and go at it like a man."

"I can't, senor, I can't!" almost wailed the chevalier. "My nerve is
gone. Never, if I live to be a thousand, shall I forget that awful
moment, that appalling 'smile.' I tell you there is wizardry in the
thing; the beast is bewitched. My work in the arena is done, done
forever, senor. I shall never have courage to look into the beast's jaws
again."

"Rot! You're not going to ruin the show, are you, and after all the
money I've put into it? If you have no care for yourself, it's your duty
to think about me. You can at least try. I tell you you must try! Here,
take a sip of brandy, and see if that won't put a bit of courage into
you. Hallo!" as a burst of applause and the thud of a horse's hoofs down
the passage to the stables came rolling in, "there's your wife's turn
over at last; and there--listen! the ringmaster is announcing yours. Get
up, man; get up and go out."

"I can't, senor, I can't! I can't!"

"But I tell you you must."

And just here an interruption came.

"Bad advice, my dear captain," said a voice, Cleek's voice, from the
other end of the tent; and with a twist and a snarl the "senor" screwed
round on his heel in time to see that other intruders were putting in an
appearance as well as this unwelcome one.

"Who the deuce asked you for your opinion?" rapped out the "senor"
savagely. "And what are you doing in here, anyhow? If we want the
service of a vet., we're quite capable of getting one for ourselves
without having him shove his presence upon us unasked."

"You are quite capable of doing a great many things, my dear captain,
even making lions smile!" said Cleek serenely. "It would appear that the
gallant Captain von Gossler, nephew, and, in the absence of one who has
a better claim, heir to the late Baron von Steinheid--That's it, nab the
beggar. Played, sir, played! Hustle him out and into the cab, with his
precious confederate, the Irish-Italian 'signor,' and make a clean sweep
of the pair of them. You'll find it a neck-stretching game, captain, I'm
afraid, when the jury comes to hear of that poor boy's death and your
beastly part in it."

By this time the tent was in an uproar, for the chevalier's wife had
come hurrying in, the chevalier's daughter was on the verge of
hysterics, and