intelligent beast of his kind living. In short, sir, there's not a
'bite' in him; and, added to that, he is over thirty years old. Zelie,
Miss di Roma, will tell you that he was born in captivity; that from his
earliest moment he has been the pet of her family; that he was, so to
speak, raised with her and her brothers; that, as children, they often
slept with him; and that he will follow those he loves like any dog,
fight for them, protect them, let them tweak his ears and pull his tail
without showing the slightest resentment, even though they may actually
hurt him. Indeed, he is so general a favorite, Mr. Cleek, that there
isn't an attendant connected with the show who would not, and, indeed,
has not at some time, put his head in the beast's mouth, just as the
chevalier does in public, certain that no harm could possibly come of
the act.
"You may judge, then, sir, what a shock, what a horrible surprise it was
when the tragedy of two weeks ago occurred. Often, to add zest to the
performance, the chevalier varies it by allowing his children to put
their heads into Nero's mouth instead of doing so himself, merely making
a fake of it that he has the lion under such control that he will
respect any command given by him. That is what happened on that night.
Young Henri was chosen to put his head into Nero's mouth, and did so
without fear or hesitation. He took the beast's jaws and pulled them
apart, and laid his head within them, as he had done a hundred times
before; but, of a sudden an appalling, an uncanny, thing happened. It
was as though some supernatural power laid hold of the beast and made a
thing of horror of what a moment before had been a noble-looking animal.
Suddenly a strange hissing noise issued from its jaws, its lips curled
upward until it smiled--smiled, Mr. Cleek!--oh, the ghastliest, most
awful, most blood-curdling smile imaginable, and then, with a sort of
mingled snarl and bark, it clamped its jaws together and crushed the
boy's head as though it were an egg-shell!"
He put up his hands and covered his eyes as if to shut out some
appalling vision, and for a moment or two nothing was heard but the low
sobbing of the victim's sister.
"As suddenly as that change had come over the beast, Mr. Cleek,"
Scarmelli went on presently, "just so suddenly it passed, and it was the
docile, affectionate animal it had been for years. It seemed to
understand that some harm had befallen its favorite--for Henri was its
favorite--and, curling itself up beside his body, it licked his hands
and moaned disconsolately in a manner almost human. That's all there is
to tell, sir, save that at times the horrid change, the appalling smile,
repeat themselves when either the chevalier or his son bend to put a
head within its jaws, and but for their watchfulness and quickness the
tragedy of that other awful night would surely be repeated. Sir, it is
not natural; I know now, as surely as if the lion itself had spoken,
that some one is at the bottom of this ghastly thing, that some human
agency is at work, some unknown enemy of the chevalier's is doing
something, God alone knows what or why, to bring about his death as his
son's was brought about."
And here, for the first time, the chevalier's daughter spoke.
"Ah, tell him all, Jim, tell him all!" she said, in her pretty broken
English. "Monsieur, may the good God in heaven forgive me if I wrong
her; but--but---- Ah, Monsieur Cleek, sometimes I feel that she, my
stepmother, and that man, that 'rider' who knows not how to ride as the
artist should, monsieur, I cannot help it, but I feel that they are at
the bottom of it."
"Yes, but why?" queried Cleek. "I have heard of your father's second
marriage, mademoiselle, and of this Signor Antonio Martinelli, to whom
you allude. Mr. Narkom has told me. But why should you connect these two
persons with this inexplicable thing? Does your father do so, too?"
"Oh, no! oh, no!" she answered excitedly. "He does not even know that we
suspect, Jim and I. He loves her, monsieur. It would kill him to doubt
her."
"Then why should you?"
"Because I cannot help it, monsieur. God knows, I would if I could, for
I care for her dearly, I am grateful to her for making my father happy.
My brothers, too, cared for her. We believed she loved him; we believed
it was because of that that she married him. And yet--and yet---- Ah,
monsieur, how can I fail to feel as I do when this change in the lion
came with that man's coming? And she--ah, monsieur, why is she always
with him? Why does she curry favor of him and his rich friend?"
"He has a rich friend, then?"
"Yes, monsieur. The company was in difficulties; Monsieur 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 lion and, if you don't mind, an introduction to the parties
concerned. No! don't fear; we won't startle anybody by revealing my
identity or the cause of the visit. Let us say that I'm a vet. to whom
you have appealed for an opinion regarding Nero's queer conduct. All
ready, Mr. Narkom? Then let's be off."
Two minutes later the red limousine was at the door, and, stepping into
it with his two companions, he was whizzed away to Olympia and the
first step toward the solution of the riddle.
II
As it is the custom of those connected with the world of the circus to
eat, sleep, have their whole being, as it were, within the environment
of the show, to the total exclusion of hotels, boarding-houses, or
outside lodgings of any sort, he found on his arrival at his destination
the entire company assembled in what was known as the "living-tent,"
chatting, laughing, reading, playing games and killing time generally
whilst waiting for the call to the "dining-tent," and this gave him an
opportunity to meet all the persons connected with the "case," from the
"chevalier" himself to the Brazilian coffee planter who was "backing"
the show.
He found this latter individual a somewhat sullen and taciturn man of
middle age, who had more the appearance of an Austrian than a Brazilian,
and with a swinging gait and an uprightness of bearing which were not to
be misunderstood.
"Humph! Known military training," was Cleek's mental comment as soon as
he saw the man walk. "Got it in Germany, too; I know that peculiar
'swing.' What's his little game, I wonder? And what's a Brazilian doing
in the army of the Kaiser? And, having been in it, what's he doing
dropping into this line; backing a circus, and traveling with it like a
Bohemian?"
But although these thoughts interested him, he did not put them into
words nor take anybody into his confidence regarding them.
As for the other members of the company, he found "the indifferent
rider," known as Signor Antonio Martinelli, an undoubted Irishman of
about thirty years of age, extremely handsome, but with a certain
"shiftiness" of the eye which was far from inspiring confidence, and
with a trick of the tongue which suggested that his baptismal
certificate probably bore the name of Anthony Martin. He found, too,
that all he had heard regarding the youth and beauty of the chevalier's
second wife was quite correct, and although she devoted herself a great
deal to the Brazilian coffee planter and the Irish-Italian "Martinelli,"
she had a way of looking over at her middle-aged spouse, without his
knowledge, that left no doubt in Cleek's mind regarding the real state
of her feelings toward the man. And last, but not least by any means, he
found the chevalier himself a frank, open-minded, open-hearted, lovable
man, who ought not, in the natural order of things, to have an enemy in
the world. Despite his high-falutin _nom de theatre_, he was a Belgian,
a big, soft-hearted, easy-going, unsuspicious fellow, who worshiped his
wife, adored his children, and loved every creature of the animal world.
How well that love was returned, Cleek saw when he went with him to
that part of the building where his animals were kept, and watched them
"nose" his hand or lick his cheek whenever the opportunity offered. But
Nero, the lion, was perhaps the greatest surprise of all, for so tame,
so docile, so little feared was the animal, that its cage door was open,
and they found one of the attendants squatting cross-legged inside and
playing with it as though it were a kitten.
"There he is, doctor," said the chevalier, waving his hand toward the
beast. "Ah, I will not believe that it was anything but an accident,
sir. He loved my boy. He would hurt no one that is kind to him. Fetch
him out, Tom, and let the doctor see him at close quarters."
Despite all these assurances of the animal's docility Cleek could not
but remember what the creature had done, and, in consequence, did not
feel quite at ease when it came lumbering out of the cage with the
attendant and ranged up alongside of him, rubbing its huge head against
the chevalier's arm after the manner of an affectionate cat.
"Don't be frightened, sir," said Tom, noticing this. "Nothing more'n a
big dog, sir. Had the care of him for eight years, I have--haven't I,
chevalier?--and never a growl or scratch out of him. No 'smile' for your
old Tom, is there, Nero, boy, eh? No fear! Ain't a thing as anybody does
with him, sir, that I wouldn't do off-hand and feel quite safe."
"Even to putting your head in his mouth?" queried Cleek.
"Lor', yes!" returned the man, with a laugh. "That's nothing. Done it
many a day. Look here!" With that he pulled the massive jaws apart, and,
bending down, laid his head within them. The lion stood perfectly
passive, and did not offer to close his mouth until it was again empty.
It was then that Cleek remembered, and glanced round at young Scarmelli.
"He never 'smiles' for any but the chevalier and his son, I believe you
said," he remarked. "I wonder if the chevalier himself would be as safe
if he were to make a feint of doing that?" For the chevalier, like most
of the other performers, had not changed his dress after the matinee,
since the evening performance was so soon to begin; and if, as Cleek had
an idea, the matter of costume and make-up had anything to do with the
mystery of the thing, here, surely, was a chance to learn.
"Make a feint of it? Certainly I will, doctor," the chevalier replied.
"But why a feint? Why not the actual thing?"
"No, please--at least, not until I have seen how the beast is likely to
take it. Just put your head down close to his muzzle, chevalier. Go
slow, please, and keep your head at a safe distance."
The chevalier obeyed. Bringing his head down until it was on a level
with the animal's own, he opened the ponderous jaws. The beast was as
passive as before; and, finding no trace of the coming of the mysterious
and dreaded "smile," he laid his face between the double row of
gleaming teeth, held it there a moment, and then withdrew it uninjured.
Cleek took his chin between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it
hard. What he had just witnessed would seem to refute the idea of either
costume or make-up having any bearing upon the case.
"Did you do that to-day at the matinee performance, chevalier?" he
hazarded, after a moment's thoughtfulness.
"Oh, yes," he replied. "It was not my plan to do so, however. I alter my
performance constantly to give variety. To-day I had arranged for my
little son to do the trick; but somehow---- Ah! I am a foolish man,
monsieur; I have odd fancies, odd whims, sometimes odd fears,
since--since that awful night. Something came over me at the last
moment, and just as my boy came into the cage to perform the trick I
changed my mind. I would not let him do it. I thrust him aside and did
the trick myself."
"Oho!" said Cleek. "Will the boy do it to-night, then, chevalier?"
"Perhaps," he made reply. "He is still dressed for it. Look, here he
comes now, monsieur, and my wife, and some of our good friends with him.
Ah, they are so interested, they are anxious to hear what report you
make upon Nero's condition."
Cleek glanced round. Several members of the company were advancing
toward them from the "living-tent." In the lead was the boy, a little
fellow of about twelve years of age, fancifully dressed in tights and
tunic. By his side was his stepmother, looking pale and anxious. But
although both Signor Martinelli and the Brazilian coffee planter came to
the edge of the tent and looked out, it was observable that they
immediately withdrew, and allowed the rest of the party to proceed
without them.
"Dearest, I have just heard from Tom that you and the doctor are
experimenting with Nero," said the chevalier's wife, as she came up with
the others and joined him. "Oh, do be careful, do! Much as I like the
animal, doctor, I shall never feel safe until my husband parts with it
or gives up that ghastly 'trick.'"
"My dearest, my dearest, how absurdly you talk!" interrupted her
husband. "You know well that without that my act would be commonplace,
that no manager would want either it or me. And how, pray, should we
live if that were to happen?"
"There would always be my salary; we could make that do."
"As if I would consent to live upon your earnings and add nothing
myself! No, no! I shall never do that, never. It is not as though that
foolish dream of long ago had come true, and I might hope one day to
retire. I am of the circus, and of it I shall always remain."
"I wish you might not; I wish the dream might come true, even yet," she
made reply. "Why shouldn't it? Wilder ones have come true for other
people; why should they not for you?"
Before her husband could make any response to this, the whole trend of
the conversation was altered by the boy.
"Father," he said, "am I to do the trick to-night? Senor Sperati says it
is silly of me to sit about all dressed and ready if I am to do nothing,
like a little super, instead of a performer, and an artist."
"Oh, but that is not kind of the senor to say that," his father replied,
soothing his ruffled feelings. "You are an artist, of course; never
super--no, never. But if you shall do the trick or not, I cannot say. It
will depend, as it did at the matinee. If I feel it is right, you shall
do it; but if I feel it is wrong, then it must be no. You see, doctor,"
catching Cleek's eye, "what a little enthusiast he is, and with how
little fear."
"Yes, I do see, chevalier; but I wonder if he would be willing to humor
me in something? As he is not afraid, I've an odd fancy to see how he'd
go about the thing. Would you mind letting him make the feint you
yourself made a few minutes ago? Only, I must insist that in this
instance it be nothing more than a feint, chevalier. Don't let him go
too near at the time of doing it. Don't let him open the lion's jaws
with his own hands. You do that. Do you mind?"
"Of a certainty not, monsieur. Gustave, show the good doctor how you go
about it when papa lets you do the trick. But you are not really to do
it just yet, only to bend the head near to Nero's mouth. Now then, come
see."
As he spoke he divided the lion's jaws and signaled the child to bend.
He obeyed. Very slowly the little head drooped nearer to the gaping,
full-fanged mouth, very slowly and very carefully, for Cleek's hand was
on the boy's shoulder, Cleek's eyes were on the lion's face. The huge
brute was as meek and as undisturbed as before, and there was actual
kindness in its fixed eyes. But of a sudden, when the child's head was
on a level with those gaping jaws, the lips curled backward in a ghastly
parody of a smile, a weird, uncanny sound whizzed through the bared
teeth, the passive body bulked as with a shock, and Cleek had just time
to snatch the boy back when the great jaws struck together with a snap
that would have splintered a skull of iron had they closed upon it.
The hideous and mysterious "smile" had come again, and, brief though it
was, its passing found the boy's sister lying on the ground in a dead
faint, the boy's stepmother cowering back, with covered eyes and shrill,
affrighted screams, and the boy's father leaning, shaken and white,
against the empty cage and nursing a bleeding hand.
In an instant the whole place was in an uproar. "It smiled again! It
smiled again!" ran in broken gasps from lip to lip; but through it all
Cleek stood there, clutching the frightened child close to him, but not
saying one word, not making one sound. Across the dark arena came a
rush of running footsteps, and presently Senor Sperati came panting up,
breathless and pale with excitement.
"What's the matter? What's wrong?" he cried. "Is it the lion again? Is
the boy killed? Speak up!"
"No," said Cleek very quietly, "nor will he be. The father will do the
trick to-night, not the son. We've had a fright and a lesson, that's
all." And, putting the sobbing child from him, he caught young
Scarmelli's arm and hurried him away. "Take me somewhere that we can
talk in safety," he said. "We are on the threshold of the end,
Scarmelli, and I want your help."
"Oh, Mr. Cleek, have you any idea, any clue?"
"Yes, more than a clue. I know how, but I have not yet discovered why.
Now, if you know, tell me what did the chevalier mean, what did his wife
mean, when they spoke of a dream that might have come true but didn't?
Do you know? Have you any idea? Or, if you have not, do you think your
fiancee has?"
"Why, yes," he made reply. "Zelie has told me about it often. It is of a
fortune that was promised and never materialized. Oh, such a long time
ago, when he was quite a young man, the chevalier saved the life of a
very great man, a Prussian nobleman of great wealth. He was profuse in
his thanks and his promises, that nobleman; swore that he would make him
independent for life, and all that sort of thing."
"And didn't?"
"No, he didn't. After a dozen letters promising the chevalier things
that almost turned his head, the man dropped him entirely. In the midst
of his dreams of wealth a letter came from the old skinflint's steward
enclosing him the sum of six hundred marks, and telling him that as his
master had come to the conclusion that wealth would be more of a curse
than a blessing to a man of his class and station, he had thought better
of his rash promise. He begged to tender the enclosed as a proper and
sufficient reward for the service rendered, and 'should not trouble the
young man any further.' Of course, the chevalier didn't reply. Who
would, after having been promised wealth, education, everything one had
confessed that one most desired? Being young, high-spirited, and
bitterly, bitterly disappointed, the chevalier bundled the six hundred
marks back without a single word, and that was the last he ever heard of
the Baron von Steinheid from that day to this."
"The Baron von Steinheid?" repeated Cleek, pulling himself up as though
he had trodden upon something. "Do you mean to say that the man whose
life he saved---- Scarmelli, tell me something: Does it happen by any
chance that the 'Chevalier di Roma's' real name is Peter Janssen
Pullaine?"
"Yes," said Scarmelli, in reply. "That is his name. Why?"
"Nothing, but that it solves the riddle, and the lion has smiled for the
last time! No, don't ask me any questions; there isn't time to explain.
Get me as quickly as you can to the place where we left Mr. Narkom's
motor. Will this way lead me out? Thanks! Get back to the others, and
look for me again in two hours' time; and Scarmelli?"
"Yes, sir?"
"One last word: don't let that boy get out of your sight for one
instant, and don't, no matter at what cost, let the chevalier do his
turn to-night before I get back. Good-bye for a time. I'm off."
Then he moved like a fleetly passing shadow round the angle of the
building, and two minutes later was with Narkom in the red limousine.
"To the German embassy as fast as we can fly," he said as he scrambled
in. "I've something to tell you about that lion's smile, Mr. Narkom, and
I'll tell it while we're on the wing."
III
It was nine o'clock and after. The great show at Olympia was at its
height; the packed house was roaring with delight over the daring
equestrianship of "Mademoiselle Marie de Zanoni," and the sound of the
cheers rolled in to the huge dressing-tent, where the artists awaited
their several turns, and the chevalier, in spangled trunks and tights,
all ready for his call, sat hugging his child and shivering like a man
with the ague.
"Come, come, buck up, man, and don't funk it like this," said Senor
Sperati, who had graciously consented to assist him with his dressing
because 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 very
well that Nero is as safe as a kitten to-night, that he never has two
smiling turns in the same week, much less the same day. Your act's the
next on the program. Buck up and go at it like a man."
"I can't, senor, I can't!" almost wailed the chevalier. "My nerve is
gone. Never, if I live to be a thousand, shall I forget that awful
moment, that appalling 'smile.' I tell you there is wizardry in the
thing; 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 jaws
again."
"Rot! You're not going to ruin the show, are you, and after all the
money I've put into it? If you have no care for yourself, it's your duty
to 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 into
you. Hallo!" as a burst of applause and the thud of a horse's hoofs down
the passage to the stables came rolling in, "there's your wife's turn
over at last; and there--listen! the ringmaster is announcing yours. Get
up, 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 the
other end of the tent; and with a twist and a snarl the "senor" screwed
round on his heel in time to see that other intruders were putting in an
appearance 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 the
service of a vet., we're quite capable of getting one for ourselves
without having him shove his presence upon us unasked."