“Forged an order,” he admitted. “Can you forgive me, Scarlett?”
“Forgive you! Bless your generous heart!” I muttered, as he handed me a sealed packet. 154
“Not at all,” he said, laughing; “a crime in time saves nine—eh, Scarlett? Pocket it; it’s all there. Now listen. I have made arrangements of another kind. Do you remember an application for license from the manager of a travelling American show—a Yankee circus?”
“Byram’s Imperial American Circus?” I said.
“That’s it. They went through Normandy last summer. Well, Byram’s agent is going to meet us at Saint-Cloud. We’re engaged; I’m to do ballooning—you know I worked one of the military balloons before Petersburg. You are to do sensational riding. You were riding-master in the Spahis—were you not?”
I looked at him, almost laughing. Suddenly the instinct of my vagabond days returned like a sweet wind from the wilds, smiting me full in the face.
“I tamed three lions for my regiment at Constantine,” I said.
“Good lad! Then you can play with Byram’s lions, too. Oh, what the devil!” he cried, recklessly; “it’s all in a lifetime. Quand même, and who cares? We’ve life before us and an honest living in view, and Byram has packed two of his men back to England and I’ve tinkered up their passports to suit us. So we’re reasonably secure.”
“Will you tell me, Speed, why you were wise enough to do all this while I was gone?” I asked, in astonishment.
“Because,” said Speed, deliberately, “I distrusted Mornac from the hour he entered the department.”