o' your--I mean, in your--"

"Profession," suggested the Fat Lady.

"--Are kind-'earted by nature. I belongs, ma'am--leastways, I _did_,--
to Maggs's Circus--if you know it--"

"I've heard Maggs's troupe very well spoken of. But, as you'll
understand, I do very little visitin'."

"I was 'appy enough with Maggs's, ma'am. But first of all a pony laid
me up with a kick, an' then I stole Arthur Miles 'ere out of the 'Oly
Innercents--"

Tilda broke down for a moment, recovered herself, and with sobs told her
story.

For a while, after she had ended it, the Fat Lady kept silence. Sam,
breathing hard, still doubtful of the child's bold policy, feared what
this silence might portend.

"Give me your hand, young man," said the Fat Lady at length.

Sam reached out in the darkness, and grasped hers fervently.

"I didn't ask you to shake it. I want to be helped out to the fresh
air, and then these children'll march straight home with me to my
caravan."

"But," stammered Sam, not yet clear that he had found an ally, "--but
that's leadin' 'em straight into Gavel's arms!"

"Young man," replied the lady austerely, "it leads into no man's arms."
But a moment later she dropped her voice, and added with a touch of
pathos, "I'm the loneliest woman in the world, outside of show hours;
and if you thought a little you might know it."

"I see," said Sam contritely.

"And, what's more, inside my own caravan I've my wits about me.
Outside and among folks--well, maybe you've seen an owl in the daylight
with the small birds mobbin' him. . . . Now about yourself and the
Mortimers--from this child's story there's no evidence yet to connect
her or the boy with either of you. The man Hucks knows, and that
carrier fellow at the wharf saw them for a minute, with Mortimer
standin' by. But that's no evidence for the police; and, anyway, this
Glasson can't touch you until he gets hold of the children. If you'll
leave it to me, he shan't do that for twenty-four hours. And now--isn't
it time you were packing up your show? You'll be gettin' back to the
boat to-night, I suppose? What about the Mortimers?" Sam explained
that he would be driving back with the tent, and intended to sleep on
board. The Mortimers would repose themselves at a small public-house,
"The Vine Leaf." In the morning they would join forces again and proceed
to Stratford. Address there: "The Red Cow."

He delivered this explanation jerkily, in the intervals of