tarpaulin hat. That sailor, riding with a happy grin on his face,
and his face towards his horse's tail! Surely not--surely it could
not be . . .? But as the sailor whirled round into view again, it
surely was Ben Jope!

The music and the merry-go-round slowed down together and came to a
standstill. A score of riders clambered off, and a score of
onlookers surged up and took their places. The Major ran with them,
pushing his way to the far side of the circle where Mr. Jope's horse
had come to a stop. He arrived, but too late. Mr. Jope had
disappeared.

A moment later, however, the Major caught sight of him, elbowing his
way through the gut of a narrow lane leading off the Quay by the
fish-market, and gave chase. But the weight in his pockets
handicapped him, and the crowd seemed to take a malicious delight in
blocking his way.

Nevertheless he kept his quarry in sight. A dozen times at least Mr.
Jope halted before a shop or a booth and dallied, staring, but ever
on the point of capture he would start off again, threading the
throng with extreme nimbleness. With a dexterity as marvellous as it
was unconscious, he dodged his pursuer past the Broad Ship, up Custom
House Hill, along Passage Street, out through the Tollway Arch and
among the greater shows--the menagerie, the marionettes, the
travelling theatre--all in full blast, almost to the extreme edge of
the fair, where it melted into the darkness of the woods and the high
road winding up between them into open country. Here, hanging on his
heel for a moment, he appeared to make a final choice between these
many attractions, and dived into a booth over which a flaming board
announced a conjuring entertainment by Professor Boscoboglio,--
"Prestidigitateur to the Allied Sovereigns."

The Major spied Mr. Jope's broad back as he dipped and entered
beneath the flap of the tent; and followed, elate at having run his
quarry to earth. A stout woman, seated at the entrance beside a drum
on which she counted her change, thrust out an arm of no mean
proportions to block his entrance, and demanded twopence, fee for
admission.

The Major, who had forgotten this formality, dipped his hand into his
breeches pocket and tendered her a guinea. She eyed it suspiciously,
took it, rang it on the lid of her money-box, and, recognising it for
a genuine coin, at once transferred her suspicions to him.

"Tuppence out of a guinea?" she sniffed. "Not likely, with a man of
_