Cleek: the Man of the Forty Faces

by Charles Felix

  CHAPTER XVIII

  It was nine o'clock and after. The great show at Olympia was at itsheight; the packed house was roaring with delight over the daringequestrianship of "Mlle. Marie de Zanoni," and the sound of the cheersrolled in to the huge dressing-tent, where the artists awaited theirseveral turns, and the chevalier, in spangled trunks and tights, allready for his call, sat hugging his child and shivering like a man withthe ague.

  "Come, come, buck up, man, and don't funk it like this," said SenorSperati, who had graciously consented to assist him with his dressingbecause of the injury to his hand. "The idea of you losing your nerve,you of all men, and because of a little affair like that. You know verywell that Nero is as safe as a kitten to-night, that he never has twosmiling turns in the same week, much less the same day. Your act's thenext on the programme. Buck up and go at it like a man."

  "I can't, senor, I can't!" almost wailed the chevalier. "My nerve isgone. Never, if I live to be a thousand, shall I forget that awfulmoment, that appalling 'smile.' I tell you, there is wizardry in thething; the beast is bewitched. My work in the arena is done--done forever, senor. I shall never have courage to look into the beast's jawsagain."

  "Rot! You're not going to ruin the show, are you, and after all themoney I've put into it? If you have no care for yourself, it's your dutyto think about me. You can at least try. I tell you you must try! Here,take a sip of brandy, and see if that won't put a bit of courage intoyou. Hello!" as a burst of applause and the thud of a horse's hoofs downthe passage to the stables came rolling in, "there's your wife's turnover at last; and there--listen! the ringmaster is announcing yours. Getup, man; get up and go out."

  "I can't, senor--I can't! I can't!"

  "But I tell you you must."

  And just here an interruption came.

  "Bad advice, my dear captain," said a voice--Cleek's voice--from theother end of the tent; and with a twist and a snarl the "senor" screwedround on his heel in time to see that other intruders were putting in anappearance as well as this unwelcome one.

  "Who the deuce asked you for your opinion?" rapped out the "senor"savagely. "And what are you doing in here, anyhow? If we want theservice of a vet., we're quite capable of getting one for ourselveswithout having him shove his presence upon us unasked."

  "You are quite capable of doing a great many things, my dear captain,even making lions smile!" said Cleek serenely. "It would appear that thegallant Captain von Gossler, nephew, and, in the absence of one who hasa better claim, heir to the late Baron von Steinheid--That's it, nab thebeggar. Played, sir, played! Hustle him out and into the cab, with hisprecious confederate, the Irish-Italian 'signor,' and make a clean sweepof the pair of them. You'll find it a neck-stretching game, captain, I'mafraid, when the jury comes to hear of that poor boy's death and yourbeastly part in it."

  By this time the tent was in an uproar, for the chevalier's wife hadcome hurrying in, the chevalier's daughter was on the verge ofhysterics, and the chevalier's prospective son-in-law was alternatelyhugging the great beast-tamer and then shaking his hand and generallydeporting himself like a respectable young man who had suddenly gonedaft.

  "Governor!" he cried, half laughing, half sobbing. "Bully old governor.It's over--it's over. Never any more danger, never any more hard times,never any more lion's smiles."

  "No, never," said Cleek. "Come here, Madame Pullaine, and hear the goodnews with the rest. You married for love, and you've proved a brick. Thedream's come true, and the life of ease and of luxury is yours at last,Mr. Pullaine."

  "But, sir, I--I do not understand," stammered the chevalier. "What hashappened? Why have you arrested the Senor Sperati? What has he done? Icannot comprehend."

  "Can't you? Well, it so happens, chevalier, that the Baron von Steinheiddied something like two months ago, leaving the sum of sixty thousandpounds sterling to one Peter Janssen Pullaine and the heirs of his body,and that a certain Captain von Gossler, son of the baron's only sister,meant to make sure that there was no Peter Janssen Pullaine and no heirsof his body to inherit one farthing of it."

  "Sir! Dear God, can this be true?"

  "Perfectly true, chevalier. The late baron's solicitors have beenadvertising for some time for news regarding the whereabouts of PeterJanssen Pullaine, and if you had not so successfully hidden your realname under that of your professional one, no doubt some of yourcolleagues would have put you in the way of finding it out long ago. Thebaron did not go back on his word and did not act ungratefully. Hiswill, dated twenty-nine years ago, was never altered in a singleparticular. I rather suspect that that letter and that gift of moneywhich came to you in the name of his steward, and was supposed to closethe affair entirely, was the work of his nephew, the gentleman whoseexit has just been made. A crafty individual that, chevalier, and helaid his plans cleverly and well. Who would be likely to connect himwith the death of a beast-tamer in a circus, who had perished in whatwould appear an accident of his calling? Ah, yes, the lion's smile was aclever idea--he was a sharp rascal to think of it."

  "Sir! You--you do not mean to tell me that he caused that? He never wentnear the beast--never--even once."

  "Not necessary, chevalier. He kept near you and your children; that wasall that he needed to do to carry out his plan. The lion was as much hisvictim as anybody else--you or your children. What it did it could nothelp doing. The very simplicity of the plan was its passport to success.All that was required was the unsuspected sifting of snuff on the hairof the person whose head was to be put in the beast's mouth. The lion'ssmile was not, properly speaking, a smile at all, chevalier; it was thetorture which came of snuff getting into its nostrils, and when thebeast made that uncanny noise and snapped its jaws together, it wassimply the outcome of a sneeze. The thing would be farcical if it werenot that tragedy hangs on the thread of it, and that a life, a usefulhuman life, was destroyed by means of it. Yes, it was clever, it wasdiabolically clever; but you know what Bobby Burns says about the bestlaid schemes of mice and men. There's always a Power--higher up--thatworks the ruin of them."

  With that he walked by, and, going to young Scarmelli, put out his hand.

  "You're a good chap and you've got a good girl, so I expect you will behappy," he said; and then lowered his voice so that the rest might notreach the chevalier's ears. "You were wrong to suspect the littlestepmother," he added. "She's true blue, Scarmelli. She was only playingup to those fellows because she was afraid the 'senor' would drop outand close the show if she didn't, and that she and her husband and thechildren would be thrown out of work. She loves her husband--that'scertain--and she's a good little woman; and, Scarmelli!"

  "Yes, Mr. Cleek?"

  "There's nothing better than a good woman on this earth, my lad. Alwaysremember that. I think you, too, have found one. I hope you have. I hopeyou'll be happy. What's that? Owe me? Not a rap, my boy. Or, if you feelthat you must give me something, give me your prayers for equal luck,and--send me a slice of the wedding cake. Good-night!"

  And twisted round on his heel and walked out; making his way out to thestreets and facing the journey to Clarges Street afoot. For to beabsolutely without envy of any sort is not given to anything born ofwoman; and the sight of this man's happiness, the knowledge of thisman's reward, brought upon him a bitter recollection of how far he stillwas from his own.

  Would he ever get that reward? he wondered. Would he ever be nearer toit than he was to-night? It hurt--yes, it hurt horribly, sometimes, thisstone-cold silence, this walking always in shadowed paths without a rayof light, without the certainty of arriving _anywhere_, though he plodonward for a lifetime--and the old feeling of savage resentment, the oldsense of self-pity--the surest thing on God's earth to blaze a trail forthe oncoming of the worst that is in a man--bit at the soul of him andtouched him on the raw again.

  He knew what that boded; and he also knew the antidote.

  "Dollops, they broke into our holiday--they did us out of a part of it,didn't they, old chap?" he said, when he reached home at la
st and foundthe boy anxiously awaiting him. "Well, we'll have a day for every hourthey deprived us of, a whole day, bonny boy. Pack up again and we'll beoff to the land as God made it, and where God's things still live; andwe'll have a fortnight of it--a whole blessed fortnight, my boy, withthe river and the fields and the flowers and the dreams that hide intrees."

  Dollops made no reply. He simply bolted for the kit-bag and began topack at once. And the morrow, when it came, found these two--the servantwho was still a boy, and the master who had discovered the way back toboyhood's secrets--forging up the shining river and seeking the Land ofNightingales again.