"Well, I—er—I used to be," and the man straightened himself up with an air of forgotten pride. "I was with a circus once—used to do a fire-eating act and jump into a fake bonfire. I doped my clothes with alum water though. That's great stuff for preventing the fire taking hold if you don't stay in the blaze too long. But, as I say, they've discovered something new."
"You used to be a fire-eater?" asked Joe curiously.
"Yes. And I was counted a pretty good one. But I lost my nerve."
"How?"
"Well—er—not to put too fine a point on it, I got too fond of the fire-water. Couldn't stay on the water-wagon long enough, got careless in my act, went down and out. Oh, it's the old story. You've probably heard it lots of times. But I would like a job now. I'm actually hungry, and I've seen the time I could blow the bunch to champagne and lobster."
Joe, on impulse, and yet, too, because he had an object, was just going to offer the man help when he saw Mr. Moyne coming across the lot toward him from the ticket wagon. The afternoon performance was about to start.
"They're here again!" cried the treasurer.
"Who?" asked Joe.
"The ticket swindlers!"