"Where is my father?" fell from Ruby's frightened lips.
"Not a second to be lost," said Dick. "I've got a scheme. Come in here, kid, and let me get into the tights you've got on. Tell Joey, and put the rest of the crowd on to the game," he added to Ruby.
When the town marshal and the detective deliberately stalked into the dressing-tent a few minutes later, a nonchalant group of performers greeted them, apparently without interest.
The new clown was partly dressed, but he had not washed the bismuth and carmine from his lean face. Braddock, perspiring freely, came in behind the officers. He saw in a glance what had transpired. His cigar almost dropped from his lips.
"We want you," said the marshal, pushed forward by the detective. The new clown looked up, amazed, as the hand fell on his shoulder. "No trouble now," added the local officer, nervously glancing around him. He knew the perils attending the arrest of a circus performer in his own domain.
"What's the matter with you?" exclaimed Dick Cronk, jerking his arm away.
"I want you, David Jenison, for murder in—"
There was a roar of laughter from the assembled crowd of performers.
"Come off!" grinned Dick Cronk. "You're off your base, you rube. Let go my arm!"
"None of that now," said the detective. "I've got your picture here. The jig's up, young feller. It's no—"