A STRANGE SUMMONS
Joe Strong looked from the sobbing Harry Loper to the amazed Ted Brown.
The latter's face showed his great surprise. For an instant Joe had an
ugly suspicion that his new assistant had played him false--that,
because of jealousy or from some other motive, he had mixed the
chemicals in some way to make them ineffective. This would spoil the
illusion, or it might even cause injury.
"Look here, Harry! what's the matter?" cried Joe, purposely using a
rough voice, so as to stop, if possible, the display of emotion on the
part of the youth. "Act like a man, can't you! If you've done some mean
trick tell me about it. What do you mean when you say this mixture is
doped?"
"Just that!" exclaimed Harry, looking up with haggard face. "I can't
stand it any longer. I promised not to tell, but I've got to. I--I can't
see any harm come to you."
"Harm!" cried Joe. "Do you mean this is poison?"
"No, not that. He said it wouldn't do you any harm--that it would only
make the act turn out wrong--that you, nor anybody, would not be hurt.
But I don't believe him. I believe he wants to harm you, and I'm going
to tell all I know. I can't stand it any longer."
"Look here, Harry!" said Joe sternly, "are you perfectly sober? Do you
know what you're saying?"
"Yes, I know that, all right, Mr. Strong," whined the lad. "I won't say
I haven't been drinking, for I have. I did it to try to forget, but it
wouldn't work. I'm plenty sober enough to know what I'm saying."
"And you tell me this chemical preparation will work harm to me and
those who help me in the fire acts?"
"I don't know as to that, Mr. Strong. He told me that it wouldn't harm
you. But I don't believe him! I won't trust him any more."
"Who do you mean?" asked Joe. "Do you know anything about this?" he
demanded sternly of Ted Brown. "You prepared this mixture, didn't you?"
"Yes, Mr. Strong, I did. I made it just the way you told me. If you
think--"
"No, he doesn't know anything about it," murmured Harry, who seemed to
have recovered some of his composure, now that the worst of his
confession was over. "He didn't have a hand in it. I'm to blame. If I
hadn't let him into your tent he couldn't have doped the stuff. Oh, I'm
sorry! I was a fool to believe him, but he promised me a lot of money
just to keep still, and I've done it up to now. But I'm through with
him!"
"Look here!" cried Joe. "How long has this been going on? Was this
mixture ever doped, as you call it, before?"
"Oh, no, not that I know," was the answer. Joe knew this much, at least,
was true. The mixture had always worked perfectly before, and if it had
been tampered with that would not have been the case.
"Then what do you mean?" cried the young magician. "Speak up, can't you?
Be a man! If you haven't done anything really wrong you won't be
punished. I'm after the person back of you. Speak up! Who is he?"
He realized that Harry Loper was but a weak tool in the hands of some
one else, and many things that had seemed strange came back to Joe with
a sudden rush now. He might be able to learn who it was that had such
enmity against him and the circus.
"Are you going to tell me?" demanded Joe.
"Yes! Yes! I'll tell you everything!" was the answer. "I can't stand it
any longer. I can't eat in comfort any more, and I can't sleep! First he
promised to pay me for letting him come to your tent when you were out.
Then he threatened to kill me if I told. But I'm going to tell. I don't
care what he does!"
"But if this is the first time my chemical mixture has been doped, what
do you mean about 'him,' whoever he is, coming to my tent at other
times?" asked Joe. "What other times were they?"
"Don't you remember when the bottle of acid was found?" asked the
abashed youth.
"Yes! Was that some of your doings too?" cried Joe hotly.
"No, I didn't do it. He did. But I--I looked the other way when he did
it. And then there was the time when the trapeze wire broke. It was acid
that did that. He put it on."
"Who is this mysterious person you call 'he' all the while?" asked Joe.
"I want to get after him."
"I'll tell you!" promised Harry. "But you'll protect me, won't you, Mr.
Strong?"
"As far as I can with decency, yes. Now tell me!"
But there came another interruption. A man thrust his head into the tent
and exclaimed:
"Mr. Tracy wants to know if you can advance the fire scenes about ten
minutes, Mr. Strong. One of the men acrobats has sprained his wrist and
they've got to cut out his act. Can you go on ten minutes sooner than
usual?"
"Guess I'll have to," said Joe. "Quick, Ted, make up some new solution.
I'll help you. As for you, Harry, you stay right here. I'll talk to you
later. Haven't time now. And I'm going to have some one stay with you,
to make sure you don't weaken and run away. It is as much for your own
sake as mine. If you've decided to leave the man who got you to help in
this work I'll stand by you. But I want to be sure your repentance is
genuine. So stay right here, and we'll talk about this later. Don't say
anything outside," he cautioned Ted.
"I won't," was the answer. "Say, I hope you don't think I had any hand
in this?"
"No," Joe answered, "I don't. I'm trusting you--that's my best
evidence."
"Thank you," said the young fellow, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Quick work was needed on the part of Joe and his new helper to get ready
for the act. New chemicals had to be mixed, to render it safe to handle
fire. This was in the acts where Joe seemed to swallow flames and where
he and the others "dined" on blazing food.
In the other acts, where Joe juggled on the slack wire with the flaming
torches, where he slid down the wire through the blazing hoops, and
where he jumped into the tank of water with his garments apparently in
flames, no change was needed. In these feats Joe's costume was
fireproofed, and, as they had been treated some time before, he knew
there was only a remote possibility that they had been tampered with.
Still he was taking no chances, and while he was waiting for Ted to
complete the mixing of the fire-resisting chemical mixture, Joe tested
his garments with a blazing bit of paper. They did not catch fire, which
assured him of safety during his sensational acts.
"How about you, Joe?" asked Jim Tracy, thrusting his head into the tent
a little later. "Are you going to be able to make it?"
"Oh, sure. I'll be there!"
"Sorry to have to make the change," went on the ringmaster. "But Baraldi
is hurt, and his act had to be cut out completely. So I had to move you
up."
"Oh, that's all right," Joe assured him.
"Hello, what are you doing here--and what's the matter with you?" cried
Jim, seeing Harry Loper sitting dejectedly in a chair. "Why aren't you
out fixing the trapezes? You know Mr. Strong goes on them soon."
"I--I--he told me to stay here," Loper stammered, indicating Joe.
"Yes," supplemented Joe Strong, "there's something doing, Jim. I'll tell
you later. I want some one to stay in here with Harry. Some one we can
trust," he added significantly.
"I'll send Paddy Flynn," promised the ringmaster. As he went out he
looked curiously at Harry.
"How's the stuff coming on, Ted?" asked Joe, when the doctored mixture
had been thrown away and new made.
"All right, I guess. I'll try it."
He put some on one finger, thrust the member into the flame of a candle,
and held it there longer than usual.
"Look out!" Joe warned him. "You can't be too familiar with fire."
"The stuff's all right," was the answer. "It's better than the last we
used."
"Good! Well, let's get busy!"
In spite of the strain of what he had gone through in listening to the
partial confession of Harry Loper, Joe did some of his best work in the
fire acts that day. The blazing banquet was most effective.
Having changed to his costume for his magical box and other tricks, and
learning that Harry was still safe under the watchful eye of Paddy
Flynn, Joe hurried out to his stage, where Mr. Tracy was already making
the ten thousand dollar offer.
As Joe hurried across the arena one of the tent men thrust into his hand
a scrap of paper.
"What is it?" asked Joe.
"I don't know," was the reply. "A boy just brought it and told me to
give it to you."
Joe had a half minute to wait while the ringmaster was talking. Quickly
he read the note--it was really a scrawl. But it said:
"Please forgive me and still believe in me. I am suffering! I can't come
to you in the condition I'm in now. But I have something to tell you if
you could come to me. The boy will bring you."
The note was signed "Hamilton Logan."
"Whew!" whistled Joe. "Worse and more of it!"