Pausing only long enough to tell the man who had given him the note to be sure and detain the boy who had brought it, Joe Strong hurried over to the stage to begin his box trick. That was to be followed by the "disappearing lady" act.
And here again Joe had to use all his reserve nerve to enable him to go on with the performance as smoothly as he usually did. He had to dismiss from his mind, for the time being, all thoughts of Ham Logan, and he steeled himself not to think of what the strange summons might mean.
"If Ham is in trouble I'm going to help him—that's all!" declared Joe.
Following the usual announcement by Jim Tracy, Joe got into the box. It was locked and roped and then Helen took her place, as did the fireman with his gleaming ax.
Joe worked unusually quickly that night in getting out of the box. He knew this haste would not spoil the illusion of the trick. In fact it really heightened it. For he was out of the heavy box in much shorter time than it had taken the volunteer committee to lock him in.
And Joe was glad no one came forward at this performance to claim the ten thousand dollars. That would have taken up time, and time, just then, was what Joe wanted most.
"Evidently none of you know how the trick is done," commented the ringmaster, when his offer of ten thousand dollars was not taken advantage of. "We will now proceed to the next illusion, that of causing a beautiful lady to disappear and vanish into thin air before your very eyes. There is no reward offered for the solution of this mystery."
Helen then took her place on the trick chair over the trap in the stage. The silk shawl was placed over her, and, in due time, the chair was shown empty.
The usual applause followed and Joe was glad his acts were over for the time. Bowing to acknowledge the fervor of the audience, Joe started toward his dressing apartment.
"I want to see you as soon as I can," he quickly told Helen. "But I have to go away. It's about Ham," he added. "I've heard from him."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. Just a scrawled note. The messenger who brought it is going to take me to him."
"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad you've heard from him. I liked him."
"I did too. I hope I can continue to like him. But I'm afraid, from the tone of his note, that he's broken his pledge. However, we can't expect too much. Don't go away for an hour or so. I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll tell you all about it."
"I'll wait for you," promised Helen.
As Joe hurried across the arena he saw the tent man who had given him the note.
"Where's the boy?" he asked.
"I took him to your tent. Paddy Flynn is there and Loper. Is anything the matter, Mr. Strong?"
"Oh, nothing that can't be made right, I hope."
Joe found a red-haired boy sitting on the edge of a folding chair in the dressing tent. The lad was looking wonderingly about the place.
"Did you bring this note?" asked Joe, showing the crumpled paper.
"Sure I did! And say, I wish I could see the show!"
"You can to-night after you take me to Mr. Logan," replied Joe. "You know where he is, don't you?"
"Sure I do! Didn't he give me the note to bring youse?"
"Where is he?"
"Down in Kelly's joint. I live next door."
"What is Kelly's joint?"
"A saloon," answered the red-haired boy. "De name on de winders is café, but they don't pronounce it that way—anyhow some of 'em don't. It oughter be cave I guess. It sure is a joint!"
"Is Mr. Logan there?" asked Joe.
"Sure he is. Upstairs in one of de rooms. He's been on a terrible spree he said, but he's sober now and sick—gee, mister, but he sure was sick. Me mudder helped take care of him."
"I'm glad of that," said Joe. "We'll go to him at once. Where is Kelly's—er—café?"
"Down by de river near de shipyards," answered the red-haired lad.
For an instant Joe hesitated, but only for an instant. The district named, as he well knew, was a bad one. It was also dangerous.
But it was still afternoon, though growing late. It would not be dark for some time, however, and Joe felt that he would be safe enough in going alone. At night he would have taken some one with him.
But there were two reasons why he did not want to do this now. One was that no one whom he felt he could trust to be discreet could be taken away from the circus, which was not yet over, though Joe's acts were finished. Another reason was that he did not want the possible degradation of Logan seen by any of his former associates. Possibly he might come back to the show, and he would always have a feeling of shame if he knew that those with whom he worked had seen him recovering from a "spree," as the red-haired lad called it.
"I've got to go away," said Joe to Paddy Flynn. Joe and the lad had talked at one side of the tent and in low tones, so the young circus man knew their voices had not been overheard by Paddy and the man he was guarding, Harry Loper. "I'll be back as soon as I can," went on the young fire-eater. "Meanwhile you stay here, Loper. Paddy will take care of you, and when I come back I'll have a talk with you."
"All right," assented the other wearily. "I feel better now I've told you."
Joe and Micky Donlon, which the red-haired boy said was his name, though probably Michael was what he had been christened, were soon on their way toward the river and the location of one of the shipyards.
"Are youse sure I can see de show to-night?" asked Micky eagerly, as they walked along.
"Positive," said Joe. "Here's a reserved seat ticket now. Two, in fact, in case you want to take some one."
"I'll take me mudder," declared the lad. "I got a girl, but she's goin' wit another feller. He bought two tickets, but dey wasn't reserved seats. I didn't have the dough—dat's why she shook me, I guess. But when I flash dese on her—say, maybe she won't want to shine up at me again! But nothin' doin'! I'll take me mudder. She needs a change after waitin' on dat guy what's been on a spree."
"How long has Mr. Logan been ill?" asked Joe.
"Oh, he's been in Kelly's joint for a week."
"He must have been waiting for the circus to arrive," thought Joe. "He knew we were booked for here. Poor fellow!"
Joe was glad it was still light when he entered the district where Kelly's café, or saloon, to be more exact, was situated. For the place was most disreputable in appearance, and the character of men loitering about it would have made it a place to stay away from after dark.
Suspicious eyes looked at Joe as he entered the place with his young guide.
"He's come to see de sick guy," Micky explained to the bartender.
"Well, I hope he's come to pay what's owin'," was the surly comment.
"I'll settle any bills that Mr. Logan may owe for board or lodging," said Joe.
"Board! He don't owe much for board!" sneered the barkeeper. "He hasn't eaten enough to keep a fly alive. But he does owe for his room."
"I'll pay that," offered Joe. Then he was guided upstairs to a squalid room.
"Come in!" called a weak voice, and Joe, pushing back the door, saw, lying on a tumbled bed, the form of the old fire-eater. It was a great change Ham Logan was in even worse condition than when he had applied to Joe for work. He was utterly disreputable. But in spite of that there was something about his face and eyes that gave Joe hope. The man was sober—that was one thing.
As Joe looked at him, Ham turned his face away.
"I—I'm ashamed to have you see me," he murmured. "I fought it off as long as I could, but I just had to see you. 'Tisn't for my own sake!" he added quickly. "I know you're through with me. But it's for your own—and the good of the show. I've got something to tell you, and, when I've done that, you can go away again and forget me. That's all I'm fit for—to be forgotten!"
A dry sob shook his emaciated frame.
"Son, here's a quarter," said Joe to the red-haired Micky. "You go out and get yourself an ice-cream soda and come back in half an hour."
And after he had thus delicately removed a witness to the sad scene Joe closed the door, and, going over to the bed, held out both his hands to the man.
And then tears—tears to which he had long been stranger—coursed down the sunken cheeks of Hamilton Logan.
Just what Joe said to the man whom he had befriended and who had gone back to his old ways and what Ham Logan said to his young benefactor will never be known. Neither would tell, and no one else knew. As a matter of fact, it did not matter. Afterward, though, following some sensational happenings which did become known, Joe told his closest friends enough of Ham's story to make clear the trend of events.
Punctually on the time agreed, Micky Donlon was back at his post. Joe was coming out of the room.
"Are you engaged for the rest of the day?" asked the young circus performer of his guide.
"Engaged?"
"I mean have you anything to do?"
"Not so's you could notice! Me mudder's goin' to dress up to see de show, but me—I'm all ready!"
"Good! Then you can help me. I'll pay you for your time. Can we get an automobile in this part of the city?"
"Gee, no, mister! Dere's jitney buses about two blocks up, though."
"Well, perhaps they'll do for a time. I've got a lot to do, and you can help me."
"I sure will, mister!" cried Micky. "Are youse in de circus—I mean does youse ride a horse or jump over de elephants?"
"Well, something like that—yes," answered Joe with a smile. "You'll see to-night if you come."
"Oh, I'll be dere! Don't forgit dat!"
Joe and his guide took a jitney to the nearest public hack stand, where a number of automobiles were waiting, and Joe entered one of these with Micky.
"Gee, if me girl could see me now!" murmured the red-haired lad, as he sank back in the deep seat.
Joe was too preoccupied to more than smile at the lad. There was much that remained to be done. The circus was to remain in this city two days more, over Saturday night, in fact, leaving on Sunday for a distant city.
"There's time enough to trap them!" mused Joe. "Time enough to trap them!"
And, getting back to the show lot, he dismissed the automobile, and, taking Micky with him, sought out Jim Tracy, Mr. Moyne, and some of the other circus executives.
And then the trap was set.
"Well," remarked Joe, after having talked rapidly and said considerable to his friends, "what do you think of my news?"
"Great!" declared the ringmaster. "I didn't think things would take just that turn, but after Loper's confession and what Ham told you, I believe it all. That scoundrel ought to be sent away for life."
"He'll go for a long time if I have anything to say," declared the treasurer. "Did you know we spotted more bogus tickets to-day?" he asked Joe.
"No."
"Well, we did. I found it out just after you left. There were only a few. The rush will come to-night."
"Unless we stop it," put in Jim Tracy.
"We'll stop it!" decided Joe. "That's why I wanted to get things started in a hurry. The trap is all ready to spring. The detectives will be here at eight o'clock, just when the rush is at its height at the ticket wagon."
"Are you going to bring Ham back?" asked Jim, when the conference was over.
"I certainly am," was the answer. "I think he's been on his last spree. And he wouldn't have gone on this one only that he was tempted by some person. Put this tempter out of the way, and it will mean Ham's safety. Now we've got to work."
There was an exceedingly busy time at the circus from then on, and very little of it concerned the show itself. The performance was delayed half an hour that night to enable the trap to be sprung.
Joe and Jim Tracy met a certain train that came in from a large city, and saw alight from it two quiet, unassuming men.
"There they are," said Joe. "Now things will move!" And he and the ringmaster were soon in conversation with the two new arrivals.
A little later the four entered Joe's dressing tent at the circus grounds. And some time after that four men, whose faces were black from the smudge of machine oil and grease and whose clothes carried like marks, left Joe's quarters.
"Down near the shipyards when the last of the day shift comes off will be the time and place," said one of the four smudge-faced men.
"Right!" declared another.
From the big shipyard poured hundreds of men. As they began to emerge from the gate the four soiled-faced individuals who had come from Joe's dressing tent mingled with them. They heard some one ask:
"Are you sure the tickets'll be good?"
"Sure," was the answer. "This fellow and his pal are part of the show. He sells 'em this way so there won't be such a crowd at the wagon, and that's why he makes such a big discount. It sort of guarantees a pretty big crowd, too. Oh, the tickets are good, all right. There's the ticket guy now."
The crowd of men turned down a side street, and the four smutty-countenanced men went with them. One of the four said:
"Wait till he sells a few tickets and then nab him."
"There's two of 'em," said another voice.
"Nab 'em both! They work together."
Soon the men from the shipyard surrounded the two men, one of whom had been designated by the sentence: "There's the ticket guy now."
Money began to change hands, and tickets were passed around. The four men who had kept together shoved their way through the crowd of ship workers.
"How much are the tickets?" one asked.
"Thirty-five cents," was the answer. "They'll cost you fifty or seventy-five at the wagon. The only reason we sell 'em this way is to avoid the rush. Then, too, you're really buying 'em at wholesale."
"I'll take four," said the man of the quartette.
"Here you are! Four."
There was another clink of money and a rustle of slips of paper. Then the man who had passed over the tickets, said:
"Here's your change. That was a five you gave me, wasn't it? Take your change."
"And you take yours, Bill Carfax!" suddenly cried one of the four. "It's quite a sudden change, too!"
There was a flash of something bright, a metallic click—two of them, in fact—and the ticket seller tried to break away. But he was held by the handcuffs on his wrists, one of the four grasping them by the connecting chain.
"Get the other!" cried a sharp voice.
There was a scuffle, another flash of something bright, two more clicks, and one of the four cried:
"That'll be about all from you, Jed Lewis, alias Inky Jed."
The two handcuffed men seemed to know that the game was up. They shrugged their shoulders, looked at each other, and grew quiet suddenly. The set trap had been successfully sprung.
"Hey! what's the big idea?"
"What's it all about?"
"Don't we get our tickets?"
Thus cried the men from the shipyards.
"You don't want these tickets," said Joe Strong, for as Bill Carfax looked more closely at one of the four he recognized him as the young circus man. "You don't want any tickets these men could sell you."
"Why not?" demanded a man who had bought one.
"Because they're counterfeit," was Joe's answer. "This man, Bill Carfax," and he nodded toward the one first handcuffed, "used to work with the Sampson show. He was discharged—ask him to tell you why—and soon after that we began to be cheated by the use of counterfeit tickets. We have been trying ever since to find out who sold them, and now we have."
"You think you have!" sneered the man who had been called "Inky Jed."
"We know it," said Joe decidedly. "Ham Logan overheard your plans discussed, and he's told everything."
"Oh!" exclaimed Bill Carfax, and there was a world of meaning in that simple interjection.
"And who might you guys be?" asked one of the shipyard men.
"I'm one of the circus owners," said Joe quietly, "and this is the ringmaster," he went on, indicating Jim Tracy. "These other two gentlemen are detectives who have been working on the case since we discovered the counterfeits. We disguised ourselves in this way in order to trap these two," and he pointed to the handcuffed men.
The ship workers nodded. One of them asked:
"And aren't they with your show, and can't they sell tickets at reduced prices?"
"Never!" exclaimed Joe. "You might get in on the tickets you bought from them, but it would be illegally. The counterfeits are clever ones," he said, holding up four he had bought for evidence. "But we can detect the difference by means of the serial numbers. And now, if you men really want to see the show, go up to the lot and get your tickets from the wagon, or buy them at one of the authorized agencies."
There were many questions fired at Joe and his friends by the shipyard men, but they had time to answer only a few.
"We've got to get back to the performance," said Joe to the detectives. "You can take them with you," and he nodded toward Bill Carfax and his crony. "Jim and I will see you later."
"Oh, we'll take them with us all right!" laughed one of the detectives. "Move lively, boys!" he added to the two prisoners. "The jig is up!"
And the two counterfeiters seemed to know it.
"What does it all mean?" asked Helen of Joe, when he got back a little before the time to go on with his acts. He had washed his face and changed to his circus costume. The two prisoners had been locked up.
"Well, it means we killed two birds with one stone," said Joe. "We got rid of the men who have been making us lose money my means of the counterfeit tickets, and we have also under lock and key Bill Carfax, who tried several times to injure me, or at least to spoil my act, by means of acid on the trapeze rope and by changing the fireproof mixture."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Helen. "Then you were in danger?"
"I suppose so—danger of injury, perhaps, but hardly death. I think Carfax, desperate as he was, would stop at that."
"How did you find out about him and the other man?"
"I'll just have time to tell you before my first act," said Joe. "It was Harry Loper who gave me the first idea. When he broke down it was because of what he had done, and on account of what Bill Carfax wanted him to do again. It was Bill who got into the tent once and put acid on my trapeze wire. And it was because he bribed poor Loper that he was able to do it. Bill pretended it was only a trick to make me slip, because he wanted to get even with me for discharging him. So poor, weak Harry let him sneak into the tent, disguised so none of our men would know him. Bill climbed up, put acid on the wire, and the fiery stuff did the rest.
"Well, that preyed on Harry's mind, but he kept putting it away. But finally, knowing the hold he had on him, Bill came back and gave him a bottle of acid to work some further harm to me or my apparatus. But Ham discovered that in time.
"Bill was provoked over his failure, and, when he wasn't helping Inky Jed get out the bogus tickets, he followed the show and tried to prevail on Harry to play another trick on me. Just what it was Harry doesn't know. He refused to do it, and then he came and confessed to me. So much for Harry. He's a sorry boy, and I think he'll turn over a new leaf.
"Now about Ham. Just as I feared, he got to drinking again. But it was because Bill met him when poor Ham's nerves were on edge, and Bill induced him to take liquor. Then Ham went all to pieces and started on a spree which lasted until now. He managed to get from place to place, always under Bill's eye, and at last he landed here, very weak and ill. Mrs. Donlon looked after him.
"And it was here that Ham first heard Bill and his crony plotting about the bogus circus tickets. The two counterfeiters planned to make a big strike here with the shipyard workers. Then Ham sent the warning to me. I called on him, learned the plans of Bill and Jed, and we sent for the detectives. The latter, we learned, were about to make an arrest anyhow, but it was of the men who really printed the bogus tickets. They hadn't a clew, as yet, to Bill and Jed, who were the real backers of the game. The detectives came on, disguised themselves with us, and we caught the scoundrels in the very act. Now they're locked up."
"Oh, Joe, it's wonderful!" exclaimed Helen. "I'm so glad it's all over. And are you going to bring Ham back to the show?"
"Just as soon as he's able to travel. Micky Donlon wants to join too, and I may give him a chance later. Well, our troubles seem to be over for a time, but I suppose there'll be more."
"Oh, look on the bright side!" exclaimed Helen. "Why be a fire-eater if you can't look on the bright side?" she laughed.
"That's so," agreed her admirer. "Well, I've got to get ready to eat some fire right now."
As Joe had said, everything was cleared up. Bill Carfax was at the bottom of most of the personal troubles of the young circus man, and his acts were actuated by a desire for vengeance. As to the ticket trick, Bill was only a sort of agent in that. Jed Lewis, alias Inky Jed, was an expert counterfeiter. He had already served time in prison for trying to make counterfeit money, and when he fell in with Bill, and heard the latter tell of some of his circus experiences, the more skillful scoundrel became impressed with the chance of making money by selling spurious tickets.
They had some printed and worked the scheme among crowds of men coming from factories, just as they were doing when they were caught.
As Ham told Joe, the old fire-eater had overheard the plots and saw his chance to do Joe a favor. Carfax, it was surmised, hoped to get Ham Logan under his influence through drink, so that he might use him in order to injure Joe, after having failed with Harry Loper.
It developed, afterward, that the paper mills had, innocently enough, furnished the swindlers with the paper for the counterfeit tickets. The material was secured through a trick, and Inky Jed knew an unscrupulous printer who did the work for him.
It was Bill Carfax who had sent the man who so nearly exposed Joe's box trick. But fortune was with the young circus man.
The music played, the horses trotted about, clowns made laughter, and Helen performed graceful feats on Rosebud. Joe did some magical tricks, walked the wire, slid down on his head, and then prepared for the blazing banquet.
In order to show what he could do, Ted Brown had introduced some novelties. After Joe and the guests had devoured the blazing food there was a pause, and then, suddenly, from the center of the table spouts of red fire burst out, so that the banquet ended in a blaze of glory. Joe's new helper had used some fireworks effectively.
In due time Bill and his crony were tried, convicted, and sent away to prison for long terms. Harry Loper changed his rather loose and weak ways and became one of Joe's best friends. Ted Brown was continued as an "assistant assistant," for in a few weeks Ham Logan was able to rejoin the show, and he again became Joe's chief helper.
"Well, what are you going to spring next on the unsuspecting public as a sensation?" asked Helen, when the show had reached a city where two days were to be spent. "Have you other acts as good a the fire-eating?"
"Well, perhaps I can think up some," was the answer.
And so, with Joe Strong thinking what the future might hold for him and the circus, we will take our leave for a time.