THE TRAP IS SET
Pausing only long enough to tell the man who had given him the note to be sure and detain the boy who had brought it, Joe Strong hurried over to the stage to begin his box trick. That was to be followed by the "disappearing lady" act.
And here again Joe had to use all his reserve nerve to enable him to go on with the performance as smoothly as he usually did. He had to dismiss from his mind, for the time being, all thoughts of Ham Logan, and he steeled himself not to think of what the strange summons might mean.
"If Ham is in trouble I'm going to help him—that's all!" declared Joe.
Following the usual announcement by Jim Tracy, Joe got into the box. It was locked and roped and then Helen took her place, as did the fireman with his gleaming ax.
Joe worked unusually quickly that night in getting out of the box. He knew this haste would not spoil the illusion of the trick. In fact it really heightened it. For he was out of the heavy box in much shorter time than it had taken the volunteer committee to lock him in.
And Joe was glad no one came forward at this performance to claim the ten thousand dollars. That would have taken up time, and time, just then, was what Joe wanted most.
"Evidently none of you know how the trick is done," commented the ringmaster, when his offer of ten thousand dollars was not taken advantage of. "We will now proceed to the next illusion, that of causing a beautiful lady to disappear and vanish into thin air before your very eyes. There is no reward offered for the solution of this mystery."
Helen then took her place on the trick chair over the trap in the stage. The silk shawl was placed over her, and, in due time, the chair was shown empty.
The usual applause followed and Joe was glad his acts were over for the time. Bowing to acknowledge the fervor of the audience, Joe started toward his dressing apartment.
"I want to see you as soon as I can," he quickly told Helen. "But I have to go away. It's about Ham," he added. "I've heard from him."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. Just a scrawled note. The messenger who brought it is going to take me to him."
"Oh, Joe, I'm so glad you've heard from him. I liked him."
"I did too. I hope I can continue to like him. But I'm afraid, from the tone of his note, that he's broken his pledge. However, we can't expect too much. Don't go away for an hour or so. I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll tell you all about it."
"I'll wait for you," promised Helen.
As Joe hurried across the arena he saw the tent man who had given him the note.
"Where's the boy?" he asked.
"I took him to your tent. Paddy Flynn is there and Loper. Is anything the matter, Mr. Strong?"
"Oh, nothing that can't be made right, I hope."
Joe found a red-haired boy sitting on the edge of a folding chair in the dressing tent. The lad was looking wonderingly about the place.
"Did you bring this note?" asked Joe, showing the crumpled paper.
"Sure I did! And say, I wish I could see the show!"
"You can to-night after you take me to Mr. Logan," replied Joe. "You know where he is, don't you?"
"Sure I do! Didn't he give me the note to bring youse?"
"Where is he?"
"Down in Kelly's joint. I live next door."
"What is Kelly's joint?"
"A saloon," answered the red-haired boy. "De name on de winders is café, but they don't pronounce it that way—anyhow some of 'em don't. It oughter be cave I guess. It sure is a joint!"
"Is Mr. Logan there?" asked Joe.
"Sure he is. Upstairs in one of de rooms. He's been on a terrible spree he said, but he's sober now and sick—gee, mister, but he sure was sick. Me mudder helped take care of him."
"I'm glad of that," said Joe. "We'll go to him at once. Where is Kelly's—er—café?"
"Down by de river near de shipyards," answered the red-haired lad.
For an instant Joe hesitated, but only for an instant. The district named, as he well knew, was a bad one. It was also dangerous.
But it was still afternoon, though growing late. It would not be dark for some time, however, and Joe felt that he would be safe enough in going alone. At night he would have taken some one with him.
But there were two reasons why he did not want to do this now. One was that no one whom he felt he could trust to be discreet could be taken away from the circus, which was not yet over, though Joe's acts were finished. Another reason was that he did not want the possible degradation of Logan seen by any of his former associates. Possibly he might come back to the show, and he would always have a feeling of shame if he knew that those with whom he worked had seen him recovering from a "spree," as the red-haired lad called it.
"I've got to go away," said Joe to Paddy Flynn. Joe and the lad had talked at one side of the tent and in low tones, so the young circus man knew their voices had not been overheard by Paddy and the man he was guarding, Harry Loper. "I'll be back as soon as I can," went on the young fire-eater. "Meanwhile you stay here, Loper. Paddy will take care of you, and when I come back I'll have a talk with you."
"All right," assented the other wearily. "I feel better now I've told you."
Joe and Micky Donlon, which the red-haired boy said was his name, though probably Michael was what he had been christened, were soon on their way toward the river and the location of one of the shipyards.
"Are youse sure I can see de show to-night?" asked Micky eagerly, as they walked along.
"Positive," said Joe. "Here's a reserved seat ticket now. Two, in fact, in case you want to take some one."
"I'll take me mudder," declared the lad. "I got a girl, but she's goin' wit another feller. He bought two tickets, but dey wasn't reserved seats. I didn't have the dough—dat's why she shook me, I guess. But when I flash dese on her—say, maybe she won't want to shine up at me again! But nothin' doin'! I'll take me mudder. She needs a change after waitin' on dat guy what's been on a spree."
"How long has Mr. Logan been ill?" asked Joe.
"Oh, he's been in Kelly's joint for a week."
"He must have been waiting for the circus to arrive," thought Joe. "He knew we were booked for here. Poor fellow!"
Joe was glad it was still light when he entered the district where Kelly's café, or saloon, to be more exact, was situated. For the place was most disreputable in appearance, and the character of men loitering about it would have made it a place to stay away from after dark.
Suspicious eyes looked at Joe as he entered the place with his young guide.
"He's come to see de sick guy," Micky explained to the bartender.
"Well, I hope he's come to pay what's owin'," was the surly comment.
"I'll settle any bills that Mr. Logan may owe for board or lodging," said Joe.
"Board! He don't owe much for board!" sneered the barkeeper. "He hasn't eaten enough to keep a fly alive. But he does owe for his room."
"I'll pay that," offered Joe. Then he was guided upstairs to a squalid room.
"Come in!" called a weak voice, and Joe, pushing back the door, saw, lying on a tumbled bed, the form of the old fire-eater. It was a great change Ham Logan was in even worse condition than when he had applied to Joe for work. He was utterly disreputable. But in spite of that there was something about his face and eyes that gave Joe hope. The man was sober—that was one thing.
As Joe looked at him, Ham turned his face away.
"I—I'm ashamed to have you see me," he murmured. "I fought it off as long as I could, but I just had to see you. 'Tisn't for my own sake!" he added quickly. "I know you're through with me. But it's for your own—and the good of the show. I've got something to tell you, and, when I've done that, you can go away again and forget me. That's all I'm fit for—to be forgotten!"
A dry sob shook his emaciated frame.
"Son, here's a quarter," said Joe to the red-haired Micky. "You go out and get yourself an ice-cream soda and come back in half an hour."
And after he had thus delicately removed a witness to the sad scene Joe closed the door, and, going over to the bed, held out both his hands to the man.
And then tears—tears to which he had long been stranger—coursed down the sunken cheeks of Hamilton Logan.
Just what Joe said to the man whom he had befriended and who had gone back to his old ways and what Ham Logan said to his young benefactor will never be known. Neither would tell, and no one else knew. As a matter of fact, it did not matter. Afterward, though, following some sensational happenings which did become known, Joe told his closest friends enough of Ham's story to make clear the trend of events.
Punctually on the time agreed, Micky Donlon was back at his post. Joe was coming out of the room.
"Are you engaged for the rest of the day?" asked the young circus performer of his guide.
"Engaged?"
"I mean have you anything to do?"
"Not so's you could notice! Me mudder's goin' to dress up to see de show, but me—I'm all ready!"
"Good! Then you can help me. I'll pay you for your time. Can we get an automobile in this part of the city?"
"Gee, no, mister! Dere's jitney buses about two blocks up, though."
"Well, perhaps they'll do for a time. I've got a lot to do, and you can help me."
"I sure will, mister!" cried Micky. "Are youse in de circus—I mean does youse ride a horse or jump over de elephants?"
"Well, something like that—yes," answered Joe with a smile. "You'll see to-night if you come."
"Oh, I'll be dere! Don't forgit dat!"
Joe and his guide took a jitney to the nearest public hack stand, where a number of automobiles were waiting, and Joe entered one of these with Micky.
"Gee, if me girl could see me now!" murmured the red-haired lad, as he sank back in the deep seat.
Joe was too preoccupied to more than smile at the lad. There was much that remained to be done. The circus was to remain in this city two days more, over Saturday night, in fact, leaving on Sunday for a distant city.
"There's time enough to trap them!" mused Joe. "Time enough to trap them!"
And, getting back to the show lot, he dismissed the automobile, and, taking Micky with him, sought out Jim Tracy, Mr. Moyne, and some of the other circus executives.
And then the trap was set.