“Leaving the show on the lot?”
“Yes.”
“With Stuffy in charge?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.” Wilbart delivered a dry smile. “I shall stay close by. Send a telegram to the Hamilcar House if you intend to sell. Then I can take possession. If I do not hear from you by—”
“What then?” demanded Tex, as Wilbart paused, still smiling.
“I shall negotiate with our friend the sheriff,” remarked Wilbart, “when he is authorized to put your show up for sale.”
With this statement, Wilbart turned and stepped from the office. Tex watched him cross the midway, where he was joined by his chauffeur. With a growl, Tex turned back into the office.
“I don’t like that heel,” he declared. “So he figures this outfit is never going to move out of Hamilcar, does he? Well — I’ll show him! I’ll—”
Tex paused. He noted Cap Guffy and turned savagely toward the proprietor of the Ten-in-One.
“Well?” quizzed Tex. “What’s on your mind? I thought you’d got that junk pile of yours off the lot.”
“Ready to pull out now,” returned Cap, extending his hand. “I’m drivin’ ahead in my coupe. The trucks are followin’. So long, Tex.”
THE circus owner lost some of his anger. He shook hands cordially with Cap. The sideshow owner walked from the office. At the door, Tex watched Cap pace along the midway. He saw him enter his coupe. The little car prepared to pull away.
“Cap Guffy ain’t a bad sort,” confided Tex, as he entered the office and spoke to the seated sheriff. “The going got too tough for him — that was all. Well — I wish him luck.”
The door opened. It was Stuffy Dowson, bringing a pair of heavy suitcases. Tex turned as the general agent spoke.
“Here’s your kiesters, Tex,” announced Stuffy. “I’m goin’ to get a car. It’s time you was startin’ for the depot.”
“All right, Stuffy.”
Tex stepped from the office as soon as Stuffy had carried the suitcases from his path. The sheriff followed. Like Tex, he stood on the fringe of the midway, looking here and there.
The showman was counting the blank spaces where concessions had been. The sheriff was picking out the scattered members of his small posse. A dozen deputies were still on the grounds.
Up by the trucks that had loaded the Ten-in-One show, Cap Guffy was speaking from the driver’s seat of his coupe. He was talking to Luke, the tattooed man.
“I’m pullin’ out,” informed Cap. “Got Marxia’s rattlers aboard this car. You see that everybody gets aboard the trucks when the drivers are ready to go.”
“We’re all set, Cap.”
Luke turned to Marxia as the coupe rolled from the lot. In a low voice, the tattooed man gave final instructions to the snake charmer.
“Croaker planted the cash,” he stated, “along with what was left of the queer. The big shot’s got it. That settles that.”
“What about Croaker?”
“He and Beef just grabbed Lucille Lavan. She was Lucy Aldon.”
“What?”
“Yep.” Luke grinned. “They’re on their way. Now it’s up to me to pass the ‘Hey Rube.’ The mob is waitin’ for the shout. I’m goin’ to slide around a bit first. Might as well give the big shot and Croaker plenty of time to get clear.”
Luke was looking down the midway. He saw Tex Larch talking with the sheriff. Stuffy Dowson had not yet returned with the car. Luke sauntered off behind some tents. Marxia remained by the trucks.
OUTSIDE the office, Stuffy reappeared beside Tex Larch and the sheriff. He informed Tex that the car was waiting on the other side of the lot. Tex pointed to the bags. Stuffy picked them up. Tex shook hands with the sheriff; then turned to follow Stuffy.
Then came an interruption. A gray-haired man came hurrying from a cluster of idlers. In a crackly voice, he shouted to the departing showman. Both Tex and the sheriff turned as the man called.
“Where are you going, Larch!” came the crackled demand. “Stop! I want to talk to you.”
The sheriff saw a clouded look appear upon Tex Larch’s face. Then the showman forced a smile to his lips. He extended his hand toward the arrival.
“I was coming into New York to see you, Mr. Towne,” declared Tex. “I was waiting here to get a wire from you.”
“A likely story!” exclaimed the gray-haired man. “I have lost patience with your dallying, Larch.”
“Come on in the office,” suggested Tex. “I’ve been having a lot of poor luck in this burg. I want to tell you that—”
“I want to see the girl!” challenged Towne. “I can abide no further with your constant wish for delay.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Towne—”
The sheriff stepped in to stop the argument. With one big hand, he pressed Tex back. He scented complications; he wanted to know the facts.
“Who are you?” the official asked the gray-haired man. “I’m the sheriff of this county. I want to know everything that’s happening on this circus lot.”
“You are the sheriff?” questioned Towne. Then, as he caught the flash of a badge, he nodded. “Very well, sir. My name is Adoniram Towne. I am the lawyer of the Aldon estate. I have come here to claim Lucy Aldon, the missing heiress.”
“Lucy Aldon!” exclaimed the sheriff. “What’s she doing here?”
“Working in the big top,” put in Tex, sullenly. “Lucille Lavan — queen of the high wire. She don’t know she’s Lucy Aldon.”
“Mr. Larch came to see me in New York,” explained Adoniram Towne. “That was a few months ago. He told me that he was sure Lucille Lavan was Lucy Aldon. He requested that I keep the fact from her until the end of the season.”
“The show would have folded without her,” put in Tex. “She was the big act. I made a straight deal with Mr. Towne here. I told him it wouldn’t be fair to Lucille to tell her who she was before the season ended. She’s happy with the show.”
“I agreed with Larch,” admitted Towne. “I even advanced him funds — as reward for finding Lucy Aldon — so that he could complete his season. But when I read of trouble in this circus I—”
“You wanted to know if the girl was safe,” interposed the sheriff. “Sure thing. I don’t blame you.”
“I want to see Lucille Aldon at once,” added Towne. “Without delay.”
“You’ll see her.” The sheriff turned to Tex. “Her act’s over, ain’t it? Where’s her tent?”
“Over by the big top,” growled Tex. “But there’s no use talking to her yet. Let’s go in the office—”
“We’ll go to her tent,” ordered the sheriff. “Come along, both of you. And you” — he turned to Stuffy, who was gaping as he held the bags — “come along with us, too. This is something I’m going to find out about.”
WHILE the four were heading for Lucille’s tent, a sudden drama was budding in an isolated spot behind the office trailer. Cliff Marsland and the roughneck with him were talking as they sat beneath the light of the old meeting tent.
Jubo the Geek had opened his eyes. Neither Cliff nor the roughneck had noticed it. While the two were chatting in low voices, Jubo moved. On hands and knees, he began to crawl toward the canvas wall.
“Look there!” The standing roughneck spied the moving geek. “He’s tryin’ a sneak! Get him!”
Yanking a gun from his pocket, the roughneck aimed for Jubo. Cliff acted before the fellow could press the trigger. The Shadow’s agent was pulling his own gun; with a downward stroke, he cracked the roughneck’s wrist. The fellow’s revolver dropped to the ground as Jubo made a dive beneath the side of the tent.
Fuming oaths, the roughneck pounced on Cliff. The Shadow’s agent grappled with his foe. It was a vicious struggle that set the two men back and forth across the tent, their heels digging in the soft turf. Then Cliff’s hand rose and descended. The steel of his automatic met the roughneck’s skull. The ruffian collapsed.