"How is it," continued Fortune, "that the little children belonging to your circus were not present this afternoon? It seems a sort of cheating of the public."
"The little children belonging to our circus?" repeated the girl. "But we hasn't no children." She turned very white now, and suddenly leaving Fortune, ran as fast as ever she could in the direction of the tent.
Fortune followed her with her eyes. She saw a dark man peeping out.
"That girl is frightened; she's hiding something," thought the woman. "There's no doubt the trail strengthens, and I, being an American—well, well, 'taint likely I'm going to leave off now. Yes, hot grows the trail."
Fortune pursued her way. She had just reached the gate of the opposite exit of the field when a light hand was laid on her arm. Turning quickly, she saw the same girl.
"For the love of God, madam," she said, "don't you tell on me—it's as much as my place is worth—he would kill me, if he knew—but we had two little kids here, and that poster in front of the circus gives their very description to a hair. But they have run away—they ran away some days ago, and God in heaven only knows where they are now."
"What were their names?" asked Fortune.
"Diana was the name of the girl——"
"Diana!" cried Fortune. "You need not tell me any more; and so it was you who stole 'em?"
"I!" said the girl; "I had nothing to do with it. I was kind to 'em when I could, and nothing would ever frighten Diana. But oh, please, promise you won't tell on me—you won't let out that I said anything?"