Strangely enough, Dene's spirits seemed lightened by the scene with Heyton; perhaps he had found that peculiar satisfaction which comes to all of us when we have relieved our minds by telling a man who has behaved badly and injured us what we think of him. But this hypothesis does not altogether account for the uplifting of Dene's mind. He had been going to commit suicide, because he was assured that everybody would regard him as one of the meanest of creatures, a forger and passer of a "stumer" cheque; but suddenly, at the tragical moment, an angel, in the guise of a young girl, had appeared, snatched the revolver from his hand, and saved him by just telling him that she believed him innocent.

It seemed to him that this guardian angel of his was hovering about him still; that it was incumbent upon him to carry out his pact with her, and to escape the fate that had threatened him, and, indeed, threatened him still. So centred were his thoughts on this girl, whose very name he did not know, so buoyed up was he by her wonderful goodness to him, that he had to remind himself he was still in danger. Perhaps, after all, that fact was not without its compensations; for Youth, when it goes with strength, and a clear brain, loves adventure, and enjoys pitting itself against any kind of foe. Here was he, an innocent man, flying from Injustice; he was to find out, perhaps for the first time in his life, what his wits were worth.

As he walked quickly, but not too hurriedly, through the shady streets towards the river, he considered the situation. If they were keen on the pursuit, the police would no doubt already have set a watch at the various ports; and it would be useless for him to attempt to reach the Continent; besides, he had not sufficient money to carry him far enough from England; for, in addition to the five-pound note, which had assumed already the character of a talisman, there were only a few shillings in his pocket.

It occurred to him that he would go down to the docks and see if he could obtain a berth on one of the small trading vessels; he had the quickness of hand and foot which comes of football and cricket, and he had done some sailing in a friend's yacht; enough, at any rate, to make him useful on board a ship. He took the train to Mark Lane Station, and suddenly reminded by the inward monitor that he had eaten nothing for some hours, turned into one of the numerous old-fashioned coffee-shops near the quay.

The place was crowded with ship hands and dock labourers, and reeked with that indescribable odour which is peculiar to the locality. Without receiving an order, a one-eyed waiter slammed a cup of thick coffee and two hunks of bread and butter before Dene; and Dene, eating and drinking the rough fare with an enjoyment which amused him, looked round him with the keenness of a man who is watching for an opportunity to seize upon the extended hand of Chance.

At the same table were seated two men whom he found it rather difficult to place; they did not look like dock labourers or sailors; and there was a mixture of the artist, the actor, the cheap-jack about them which stirred his curiosity; he found himself listening to them involuntarily.

"About time we were moving, isn't it?" said one. "The whole caboose will be down there by now; and it will be a devil of a job getting it on board in the dark. Why the old man didn't go by the regular line I can't think."

"'Thrift, Horatio, thrift,'" responded his companion; "he'll save a lot of money by hiring this old tramp; and he won't care how we have to pig it, so long as the blessed animals are all right. I had a look at her just now, and if ever there was a jumping, rolling, sea-sick old tub, she's one."

"A nice prospect," grunted the first man; "and we're short-handed, too; catch the old man taking a single man more than he wants."

Dene pricked up his ears. Was the hand of Chance being extended already? He waited for more, but the men ceased talking, and presently rose and walked out, with a gait which was as curious as everything else about them. Obeying an impulse, Dene rose and followed them. They joined the crowd going down towards the docks, and, keeping them in sight, he merged into a group of excited persons who were moving about in a scene which struck Dene with amazement.

On the quay, beside which a steamer was moored, towered a couple of huge elephants, surrounded by camels, horses, and mules, while on trollies stood cages of wild beasts, lions, tigers, jackals; one of the elephants was trumpeting, the camels were groaning, the carnivora roaring; mixed with their din were the voices of a motley crew, men and women, having the same appearance in dress and manner as that of the two men he had followed. Dene saw that it was a travelling menagerie and circus, and he looked on it with an amusement which predominated over his self-interest. Presently there darted into the conglomerate mass an extraordinary object—it might have been one of the monkeys escaped from its cage and miraculously raised into imitation of a man's stature. The diminutive figure was enveloped in a fur coat, much too large for it, and crowned by a ridiculous sombrero hat. An extinct cigar was held in the clenched teeth, and as the thing waved its hand Dene caught the glitter of innumerable rings.

At the appearance of this strange creature a momentary silence fell on the crowd. Without a word, he darted to and fro, always waving the beringed hand and biting harder on his cigar. But though he did not speak, and there seemed to be no meaning in the waving of his hands, the movements of the crowd began to take to themselves something of purpose and order, and the animals fell into line and began to pass along the broad gangway as if they were under the command of Noah and going into the Ark. The little man in the fur coat was evidently the controlling spirit; he seemed to be everywhere at once, and the gesticulating paws were like those of a conductor conducting a band; wherever a difficulty cropped up, the fur coat and the sombrero hat were beside it, and the glittering paws smoothing it away.

The more docile of the beasts were on board. The cages had been hoisted by the crane, and the horses were following; one of them grew restive, and slipped from the grasp of the man in charge of it. It would have made a bolt for it, but Dene, who happened to be standing quite close, caught hold of the bridle. As he did so, the hands waved before his face; somehow or other, Dene understood that the gesture meant "Go on!" and he led the horse over the gangway on to the ship.

The grotesque figure had followed him, and, with another gesture, ordered Dene to lead the horse to the rough stables which had been set up on deck. He did so, and was at once seized upon by one of the men, who badly needed assistance; and for half an hour Dene was kept hard at work. There was a fearful din; but presently he heard the warning whistle, and was making his way for the gangway when he was stopped by the fur coat and waved back again.

"No time to go ashore, my man," said the dwarf, speaking for the first time in Dene's hearing.

Dene paused for just one moment, then, with a shrug of the shoulders, he turned and went back to the horses. He heard the snorting and panting of the tug, felt the vessel move, heard some cheers from the deck, and knew the tug was towing the vessel from the quay.

For the next hour Dene was convinced that he was the most-needed man on earth; for everybody wanted him. He helped to get the horses into their stables; he bore a hand in putting the cages into position; he carried hay to the elephants and shins of beef to the lions; and while he was doing these and innumerable other tasks, someone was perpetually shouting in his ear, "'Ere, matey, lend a hand, will you?" But at last the confusion simmered down, and, wiping his face, Dene went with the other men below, where a meal had been hastily prepared for them.

The insufficient light of a waving lamp fell upon a group of men and women he had seen on the quay. They were of the usual types which go to make up a circus company, and they all seemed merry and bright, and utterly indifferent to the noise and the discomfort. There were some nice-looking girls amongst them, and they were laughing and talking excitedly, their eyes flashing merrily as they crowded round the trestles which bore the steaming coffee, the chunks of bread, and the slabs of meat.

With a not-unnatural shyness, Dene stood aside for a moment or two; but feeling that, at any rate, he had earned his supper, he drew near the board. As he did so, one of the men he had seen in the coffee-house caught sight of him, scanned him curiously, and said:—

"New hand, eh? What's your line?"

This was a somewhat awkward question, and Dene temporized.

"Well, I don't quite know," he said. "I've been lending a hand generally."

The man looked at him with an increased interest, as if struck by the tone of Dene's voice.

"Oh!" he said, thoughtfully. "Engaged at the last moment? Well, you'd better go and see the guv'nor."

"Gentleman in the fur coat?" asked Dene.

"The same," said the man, with a grin. "You haven't met him yet? Engaged through an agent, I suppose? Well, you've got a novel experience awaiting you. Better look him up at once; he's in his cabin at the present moment."

"Thanks. I will," said Dene.

"My name's Sidcup," said the man, in a friendly way. "What's yours?"

This was another staggerer.

"Oh, mine's—Sydney Green," said Dene.

Mr. Sidcup smiled and winked. "Good name," he said. "Short; descriptive; good professional name."

Dene coloured, but passed off his embarrassment with a laugh.

"You'll find you've not joined a bad lot, Mr. Green," said Sidcup, with a jerk of his head towards the collected company. "It's a good show, and some of us"—he passed his hand over his smooth chin, and pulled down his waistcoat complacently—"are not without talent."

"I'm sure of that," said Dene, with an air of conviction. "I'll go and see—what is the proprietor's name?"

"Bloxford. Bloxford's Mammoth Circus; the largest on Earth; see Press notices. But, of course, you know," replied Mr. Sidcup, with some surprise. "The old man's all right, as you'll find. Curious customer; but knows his business. He's not much to look at; but he's a devil to work, and he's a born manager. What I mean is, that he sees what a man's worth, in the—er—twinkling of an eye. And here's a tip for you: never argue with him; don't contradict him; just let him have his say and keep your mouth shut. If he says the moon's made of green cheese—ask him for a biscuit to eat with it. I've been with him for five years, and I understand him."

"Thank you very much," said Dene. "I'll take your tip. I'm not fond of arguing myself."

When he had disposed of his supper, he made his way to Mr. Bloxford's cabin and knocked at the door. He was bidden to enter in a sharp, falsetto voice, like that of a phonograph when it is on the high note. The manager was still enveloped in his fur coat, but his hat had been thrown aside, revealing a head apparently completely hairless. A lighted cigar was now between his teeth, and a bottle of champagne stood on the table. Mr. Bloxford looked up from a paper that he was reading, and eyed Dene with that suppressed impatience which is peculiar to all managers of theatres and circuses.

"Well, what do you want?" he demanded. "Tub isn't sinking already, is she?"

"I've come to ask you to take me on, to let me join your company, Mr. Bloxford," said Dene, going straight to the point.

The manager stared at him. "Take you on! Why, aren't you one of the hands? Then what the blank are you doing here?"

"No, I'm not engaged at present," replied Dene; and he explained how he had been caught up in the turmoil and had remained on board. While he was speaking, Mr. Bloxford had been eyeing the tall, well-made figure, the pleasant, handsome face, and, being a man of the world—and a circus manager to boot—he had no difficulty in seeing that the young man, standing so modestly, and yet so easily, before him, was a gentleman.

"I suppose you know that you're a stowaway, that I could have you chucked overboard, or put into irons or something," he said, furiously, his eyes snapping.

Dene smiled merely.

"Well, now you're here, I'll have to take you on, I guess," said Mr. Bloxford. "You seem to be handy with horses."

"I'm fond of them," said Dene.

"That's all right," rejoined Mr. Bloxford. "I suppose there's nothing you can do in the professional way? You'd make a good acrobat, or—well, you'd shape into several things." He looked the figure up and down again, just as he would have examined an animal offered for his inspection. "But we'll see about that later on. Thirty bob a week. How will that suit you?"

"It will suit me very well; and I'll try to earn it," said Derrick.

Mr. Bloxford stared at him. "Here, don't startle me; I've got a weak heart," he observed, with a grin. "You say it as if you meant it. Here, what's your name?"

"Sydney Green," replied Dene, with a promptitude acquired by his recent experience.

"Right!" said the manager. "Have a drink?"

He poured out a liberal quantity of champagne for Dene, and, filling his own glass, raised it, eyeing Dene keenly over the edge of it.

"Here's to us! I rather like the look of you; but just listen to me, young fellow. I don't care who and what a man is when he joins my company, he's under my orders. See? And look here, I don't ask any questions; I take a man for what he says he is. You say your name's Green. Dark Green, I expect, eh? Well, it's no business of mine. You know where we're bound for, I suppose? Well, we're bound for South America. We're going to do it thoroughly; if ever we get there, which seems doubtful, for this infernal old tramp is more rotten than I thought. But she's cheap, anyhow; and economy is my motto. Thirty shillings a week." He wrote down Dene's new name and the amount of his wages. Then, suddenly, his manner changed; with an impatient gesture he waved his beringed hand, and Dene felt himself swept outside.

He stood in the gangway and looked straight before him for a minute or two. His brain was whirling somewhat, but he realized that he had escaped. His hand went to his breast pocket, where reposed the five-pound note his guardian angel had given him. It was still intact. He felt that it was proving itself a talisman. God bless her!