."

"Gentleman in the fur coat?" asked Dene.

"The same," said the man, with a grin. "You haven't met him yet? Engaged
through an agent, I suppose? Well, you've got a novel experience
awaiting you. Better look him up at once; he's in his cabin at the
present moment."

"Thanks. I will," said Dene.

"My name's Sidcup," said the man, in a friendly way. "What's yours?"

This was another staggerer.

"Oh, mine's--Sydney Green," said Dene.

Mr. Sidcup smiled and winked. "Good name," he said. "Short; descriptive;
good professional name."

Dene coloured, but passed off his embarrassment with a laugh.

"You'll find you've not joined a bad lot, Mr. Green," said Sidcup, with
a jerk of his head towards the collected company. "It's a good show, and
some of us"--he passed his hand over his smooth chin, and pulled down
his waistcoat complacently--"are not without talent."

"I'm sure of that," said Dene, with an air of conviction. "I'll go and
see--what is the proprietor's name?"

"Bloxford. Bloxford's Mammoth Circus; the largest on Earth; see Press
notices. But, of course, you know," replied Mr. Sidcup, with some
surprise. "The old man's all right, as you'll find. Curious customer;
but knows his business. He's not much to look at; but he's a devil to
work, and he's a born manager. What I mean is, that he sees what a man's
worth, in the--er--twinkling of an eye. And here's a tip for you: never
argue with him; don't contradict him; just let him have his say and keep
your mouth shut. If he says the moon's made of green cheese--ask him for
a biscuit to eat with it. I've been with him for five years, and I
understand him."

"Thank you very much," said Dene. "I'll take your tip. I'm not fond of
arguing myself."

When he had disposed of his supper, he made his way to Mr. Bloxford's
cabin and knocked at the door. He was bidden to enter in a sharp,
falsetto voice, like that of a phonograph when it is on the high note.
The manager was still enveloped in his fur coat, but his hat had been
thrown aside, revealing a head apparently completely hairless. A lighted
cigar was now between his teeth, and a bottle of champagne stood on the
table. Mr. Bloxford looked up from a paper that he was reading, and eyed
Dene with that suppressed impatience which is peculiar to all managers
of theatres and circuses.

"Well, what do you want?" he demanded. "Tub isn't sinking already, is
she?"

"I've come to ask you to take me on, to let me join y