head. 'Tomorrow,' Herr Pauer reiterated.
The culprit shook his head again. 'They will kill the fatted calf,' said
Herr Pauer.

'Oh, no, they won't,' said Paul

His father might be moved to do it, but not the rest. Oh, no, not the
rest. And on the whole he would rather not have the fatted calf. He
would prefer any desolation to forgiveness. Forgiveness must be preceded
by knowledge, and the thought of that was unendurable.

'Do you reckon,' asked Herr Pauer, 'that you are ever going to see your
folks again?'

Paul said nothing, and the circus proprietor moved back to his seat
on the table. The circus band played close by, and at times the people
cheered But in the little canvas box of a room there was silence for a
long while Before it was broken the fat man came with a message.

'Poor Gill's no use to-night, governor; his ankle's worse than ever.'

'All right,' said Herr Pauer. 'I'll take an extra turn. Tell me when I'm
wanted.'

'Saltanelli's off in a minute'

'I'll follow.'

The fat man withdrew, and Herr Pauer, having carefully balanced the
stump of his cigar on the edge of the table, went after him. Paul waited
for half a minute, and then stole out The fat man faced him.

'Where are you going to?'

'What business is that of yours?' Paul asked

'Governor's orders was you was to stop till he came back again.'

'Suppose I refuse to stop?'

'You can make a row if you like,' the fat man said wheezingly; 'but the
governor's orders is the governor's orders. The governor says, "Keep
that young chap till I come back again." There's plenty here to do it.'

'Very well,' said Paul, noticing half-a-dozen loungers in the canvas
passage.

He went back and took his former place The savage appetite he had felt
half an hour earlier had gone, and the empty nausea was back again. He
had not heart enough left to care for anything. When the owner of the
tent returned he brought a black bottle in his hand, and one of the
liveried men came in behind him with a jug and glasses.

'I take one between turns,' said Herr Pauer--'never more One is a
pick-me-up. Anything more than one is wrong.' He poured a stiff dose
of rum into either glass, and looking towards Paul, water-jug in hand,
said, 'Say when.'

'None for me,' Paul answered. 'I never touched the cursed stuff till
Saturday. I'll never touch it again.'

'Nonsense!' his companion answered, filling up the glass and pushing it
towards him. 'Your teeth are chattering.