eave his employment.

Mr. Bloxford stared, grew red and exceeding wrath.

"What the deuce does this mean?" he demanded, throwing open his fur coat
and sticking out his chest. "Look here, if you're not satisfied----"

Derrick made haste to assert not only his entire satisfaction with, but
his gratitude for, Mr. Bloxford's confidence and generosity.

"Then what is it?" shrilled Mr. Bloxford. "Has anybody been roughing
you? If so, out he goes. Oh, I can't part with you, and that's the long
and short of it. Here, what is it?"

"That's just what I can't tell you," said Derrick, colouring under the
sharp, gimlet-like eyes.

Mr. Bloxford scratched his hairless head and looked despairingly at
Derrick. From the first he had expected that there were grave reasons
for the young man's presence in the company; a man of Derrick's breeding
does not join a travelling circus for the mere fun of it.

"Some trouble, I suppose, eh? Got to clear out? I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Look here, can't something be done--can't it be squared? if it's
money--well, say the amount"--he threw out his chest again--"and it
shall be forthcoming. I'll own up that I've taken a fancy to you, that
I'd plank down a biggish sum to keep you with me. No?"--for Derrick had
shaken his head.

"Thank you with all my heart," said Derrick. "I must clear out without
any fuss. I've got a bundle packed, and I'm going straight off directly
I leave you."

Mr. Bloxford's countenance fell, and he whistled.

"Bad as that, is it? Whatever have you done? Well, well, I won't ask any
questions. I've met some of your sort before; there's always something
shady--though it goes against the grain with me to think that you've
done anything low down and mean. But I see there's no use talking."

He thrust his hand in his breast-pocket, in which, with his love of
ostentation, he always carried a bundle of notes and some loose gold,
and, as he held out his hand to Derrick, there was something crisp in
it.

Derrick shook the hand and pressed back the note; he could not speak for
a minute; then he said, rather huskily:

"It's all right, Mr. Bloxford. You paid me on Friday night, and I've
plenty to go on with."

With that he went out, heavy-hearted, and Mr. Bloxford stood at the
door, his extraordinary face drawn into a thousand wrinkles and his lips
shaping strange oaths.

CHAPTER XVIII

A week later Derrick was tramping along a dusty road which led to the
little town o