As Hugo left the room, he said to himself, "I will do as my uncle requests, but for my own benefit, not his. Though I would not confess it to him, the resemblance to my cousin is startling. I don't wonder Uncle Cornelius noticed it. Can it be possible that Fitzgerald deceived me, and that the boy is really alive, and is a bareback circus-rider? He is capable of playing me false. If he has done so, I must at all hazards prevent my uncle finding it out. The estate of Chestnutwood, for which I have schemed so long, must be mine. The life of a frail old man alone separates me from it now, but if this boy were found, then I should sink back to my life of humble dependence. It shall never be!"
It was not yet 10 o'clock, and Hugo was in no mood for bed. He went down-stairs and remained in the bar room till the return of the hotel guests who were connected with the circus.
Towards 10.30, Mr. Coleman, proprietor of the circus, entered the office of the hotel. He was in good spirits, for there had been a large attendance at the first performance, and the prospects of a successful season were flattering.
"Good evening, Mr. Coleman," said Hugo, approaching the manager, to whom he had been introduced; "did your first performance pass off well?"
"It was immense, sir, immense! I am proud of Crampton! It has received me royally," returned the manager, enthusiastically.
"I am glad to hear it. May I offer you a cigar?"
"Thank you, sir."
"You will find mine choicer than any you can procure here. I spent a part of the evening at the tent."
"I hope you didn't get tired."