eur van Zant, the
proprietor, could not make it pay, and it was upon the point of
disbanding. But suddenly this indifferent performer, this rider who is,
after all, but a poor amateur and not fit to appear with a company of
trained artists, suddenly this Signor Martinelli comes to Monsieur van
Zant to say that, if he will engage him, he has a rich friend, one Senor
Sperati, a Brazilian coffee planter, who will 'back' the show with his
money, and buy a partnership in it. Of course M. van Zant accepted; and
since then this Senor Sperati has traveled everywhere with us, has had
the entree like one of us, and his friend, the bad rider, has fairly
bewitched my stepmother, for she is ever with him, ever with them both,
and--and---- Ah, mon Dieu! the lion smiles, and my people die! Why does
it 'smile' for no others? Why is it only they, my father, my brother,
they alone?"

"Is that a fact?" said Cleek, turning to young Scarmelli. "You say that
all connected with the circus have so little fear of the beast that even
attendants sometimes do this foolhardy trick? Does the lion never
'smile' for any of those?"

"Never, Mr. Cleek, never under any circumstances. Nor does it always
smile for the chevalier and his son. That is the mystery of it. One
never knows when it is going to happen; one never knows why it does
happen. But if you could see that uncanny smile----"

"I should like to," interposed Cleek. "That is, if it might happen
without any tragical result. Hum-m-m! Nobody but the chevalier and the
chevalier's son! And when does it happen in their case, during the
course of the show, or when there is nobody about but those connected
with it?"

"Oh, always during the course of the entertainment, sir. Indeed, it has
never happened at any other time--never at all."

"Oho!" said Cleek. "Then it is only when they are dressed and made up
for the performance, eh? Hum-m-m! I see." Then he lapsed into silence
for a moment, and sat tracing circles on the floor with the toe of his
boot. But, of a sudden: "You came here directly after the matinee, I
suppose?" he queried, glancing up at young Scarmelli.

"Yes; in fact, before it was wholly over."

"I see. Then it is just possible that all the performers have not yet
got into their civilian clothes. Couldn't manage to take me round behind
the scenes, so to speak, if Mr. Narkom will lend us his motor to hurry
us there? Could, eh? That's good. I think I'd like to have a look at
that li