To return to Derrick Dene. When Isabel had left the van he lay, with a frown on his face, thinking sadly and troubled by a somewhat unreasonable remorse. He was not a vain man, but he knew that, all unwittingly, he had gained the love of this dark-browed, passionate girl. She was very beautiful; she had nursed him with the tenderness of a sister, a mother, a wife. Why should he not accept the gift which the gods were offering him? Why should he not make her his wife? Even as he put the question, the answer rose to confront him. He was in love with another woman, a girl he had seen once or twice only in his life—the girl at Brown's Buildings.

It was absurd, of course. He might never meet her again; it was more than probable that by this time some other man had discovered so great a prize; she might be engaged, married. The chances were that, though he had thought of her every day since he had left her, she had well-nigh forgotten him, or, at the best, thought of him as a foolish young man who had sacrificed himself for a mistaken sense of chivalry, the man whom she, a slip of a girl, had saved from suicide. Why, he told himself, any feeling she must have for him must be that of contempt. All the same, he loved her, and therefore this other woman could be nothing to him.

The doctor and Mr. Bloxford came to see him; Bloxford full of impish delight and satisfaction at Derrick's recovery, and full also of threats of what he, Bloxford, would do if ever he came across the cause of Derrick's "accident."

An hour later Derrick had another visitor. It was Sidcup. Derrick liked the man; for, notwithstanding his harmless vanity, he was a decent sort, and the courage he displayed in his performance won Derrick's admiration. Sidcup came in and stood beside the bunk, and looked down at Derrick with a grim countenance, and he did not offer to shake hands.

"You're better, Green?" he said. "Do you think you're well enough to have a little talk? Don't say so, if you're not; but I want to have a word or two with you rather badly."

"I'm all right," said Derrick. "Fire away! It's awfully good of you to come and see me."

"I dunno," said Sidcup, moodily. "I came on my own account—and another's. Look here, Green; it's about Isabel. I want to have it out with you."

Derrick had raised himself on his elbow, but at this he dropped back and his eyes fell, for he knew what was coming.

"Of course you know how it is with her," said Sidcup. "You're not blind, and you must have seen for some time past that she's—sweet on you. I don't say it's your fault; in fact, I'll go so far as to say that you haven't led her on, encouraged her, as another man might have done. That's just the worst of it. Perhaps, if you had, she wouldn't have been so taken with you. It's the way with some women to go after the man that draws back or doesn't meet 'em half-way."

"Look here——" said Derrick. But Sidcup shook his head.

"Better let me finish," he said; "no doubt you'll have something to say when I've done. Of course, you'll deny it, but what's the use? All the company know it. And I—well, I've the best reason for knowing it. Oh, yes, I've come to speak out. I'm sweet on her myself—no, that's not the word, for I love her. It's no new affair with me; it's been going on ever since she joined us. She's the one woman in the world for me, and I want her, want her badly. But it's love with me, the real thing, and I tell you straight, Green, that, if you care for her, if you'll marry her, I'll stand aside, and I'll do all I can for you and her. That's how it is with me."

Derrick, with his brows drawn straight and his lips shut, held out his hand, for his heart went out to this man who was in the same case as himself. But Sidcup disregarded the proffered hand.

"Wait a bit!" he said. "I want to hear what you're going to say, what you're going to do; for I tell you plainly that, if you don't mean the straight thing by Isabel, you've got to reckon with me, and I shan't miss it, as that fool of a Jackman did. Will you marry her?"

"No," said Derrick, in a low voice, but decidedly. "Mind, I don't admit the truth of your—your statement; but, if I did, there are reasons——"

"There's another woman," said Sidcup, drawing a long breath.

Derrick's pale face flushed. "There are reasons why I can't marry any woman, Sidcup," he said. "No, I can't tell you them, but you can take it from me that they exist. No, I'm not married already," he added, with a grim smile, as he saw the question in Sidcup's eyes. "The fact is, I'm an outcast and a pariah. Sounds melodramatic, doesn't it? But it's the truth. And you can tell Isabel so, if you like."

Sidcup laughed bitterly.

"Do you think that would make any difference to her?" he retorted. "You don't know much about women——"

"I don't!" interjected Derrick.

"——If you think that would put her off. It would make her more gone on you than ever. She's that sort. And if you don't, or can't, marry her, what are you going to do?"

"The Lord knows," groaned Derrick, desperately.

"Look here, Green, you're a gentleman," said Sidcup.

"Am I? Thank you. But I'm not so sure. I don't know that I've any claim to the title."

"You're a gentleman, right enough; we all know that," said Sidcup. "But you haven't traded on it, I'll say that for you. And there's only one thing for a man to do who is a gentleman——"

"And that is?" asked Derrick.

"To cut and run; to clear out," replied Sidcup. "Oh, don't make any mistake! If you stay on with the company, things between you and Isabel will grow from bad to worse."

"I tell you that it's your fancy, that you exaggerate——"

"She's one of the most beautiful women God ever made," said Sidcup, ignoring Derrick's remonstrance, "and no man could resist for long such a woman, especially when she's gone on him, as Isabel is on you. Yes, there's only one thing for you to do, and that is to clear out as soon as you're able. And if you're the straight man I think you, you'll do it, for her sake—I won't say for mine."

Derrick rose painfully on his elbow.

"By Heaven, Sidcup," he said, in the stifled voice of a man who is deeply moved, "you're a good chap; and, if I go, it will be for your sake. I'd rather cut this hand off than come between a man and the girl he loves."

"Yes, and there's another reason," said Sidcup, with a shake of the head. "Isabel's not the only one; there's Alice."

Derrick's eyes shone angrily now.

"Oh, go to blazes!" he said. "You're out of your mind; you'll be telling me that all the blessed women in the company——"

"Well, we'll let her go," said Sidcup, "though it's the truth. What are you going to do?"

Derrick lay still for a moment or two; then he heaved a sigh. He had found an occupation which, if it did not exactly suit him, provided him with a living, and it was hard to be compelled to surrender it. It seemed to him that he was doomed to be a wanderer, a fugitive; he had flown from man's judgment; now he was told that he must fly from a woman's love.

"I suppose I'll have to go," he said. "I can't stay and make trouble between you and the woman who has been so good to me. God bless her!"

At this Sidcup took Derrick's hand and pressed it.

"I said you were a gentleman and would do the right thing," he said. "God knows whether it will be any good to me, your going; but it will be good for Isabel. Look here, you'll have to pad the hoof without any 'good-byes.' Yes, you will"—as Derrick stared at him. "Why, man, do you suppose she'd let you go if she knew you meant it? You don't know Isabel; you see, you don't love her as I do. She's the sort to go off with you——"

"Oh, stow it! You make me tired," implored Derrick. "But if I must, I must. Seems to me you're having it all your own way, Sidcup. I'm to go off without saying 'good-bye' to all the people who have been so kind to me. Oh, dash it!"

"The only way," said Sidcup, firmly. "And look here," he added, after a pause. "I know I'm doing you out of a good berth, and one that would have been better still if you could have stayed, for the old man's clean gone on you, and in time you'd have been the boss in reality, as well as in name, which you are now. And I don't forget that you're stranded in this outlandish place. Oh, I know how much I'm asking of you, and—and I'm not ungrateful."

"For goodness' sake, say no more about it," said Derrick.

"Only this," said Sidcup, colouring and hesitating nervously. "You may not be very oofish; you'll want some coin. I've saved a few quid——"

"That puts a finish to it," broke in Derrick, flushing angrily, and yet with something very different from anger in his heart. "Get out, or—or I'll throw you out!"

"You couldn't throw out a mouse," retorted Sidcup, with a mirthless smile. "All right. I was afraid you wouldn't accept my offer; but there it is. You've played the part of a gentleman, Green——"

"Oh, go and be hanged!"

"Is there anything I can do for you?" inquired Sidcup, with a friendly and admiring look in his eyes, which, though they were rather too fond of viewing themselves in the looking-glass, were honest and true.

"Yes, you can go and get the property pistol and shoot me," said Derrick. "But leave me alone now, there's a good fellow. I've given you my word."

"And you'll stick to it, I know," said Sidcup, shaking hands with him.

Isabel sat beside her patient that night, as she had sat for the four preceding ones; but few words passed between them, for Derrick seemed to be sleepy—at any rate, he lay with his eyes closed. The next day it was Isabel who was silent; for, woman-like, she felt that a barrier had risen between them, and she was wondering what it could be. Derrick was a strong man, and he recovered quickly. In a day or two he was able to get about, and on the morning of the fifth he sought Mr. Bloxford and, as gently as he could, informed him that he, Derrick, would have to leave his employment.

Mr. Bloxford stared, grew red and exceeding wrath.

"What the deuce does this mean?" he demanded, throwing open his fur coat and sticking out his chest. "Look here, if you're not satisfied——"

Derrick made haste to assert not only his entire satisfaction with, but his gratitude for, Mr. Bloxford's confidence and generosity.

"Then what is it?" shrilled Mr. Bloxford. "Has anybody been roughing you? If so, out he goes. Oh, I can't part with you, and that's the long and short of it. Here, what is it?"

"That's just what I can't tell you," said Derrick, colouring under the sharp, gimlet-like eyes.

Mr. Bloxford scratched his hairless head and looked despairingly at Derrick. From the first he had expected that there were grave reasons for the young man's presence in the company; a man of Derrick's breeding does not join a travelling circus for the mere fun of it.

"Some trouble, I suppose, eh? Got to clear out? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Look here, can't something be done—can't it be squared? if it's money—well, say the amount"—he threw out his chest again—"and it shall be forthcoming. I'll own up that I've taken a fancy to you, that I'd plank down a biggish sum to keep you with me. No?"—for Derrick had shaken his head.

"Thank you with all my heart," said Derrick. "I must clear out without any fuss. I've got a bundle packed, and I'm going straight off directly I leave you."

Mr. Bloxford's countenance fell, and he whistled.

"Bad as that, is it? Whatever have you done? Well, well, I won't ask any questions. I've met some of your sort before; there's always something shady—though it goes against the grain with me to think that you've done anything low down and mean. But I see there's no use talking."

He thrust his hand in his breast-pocket, in which, with his love of ostentation, he always carried a bundle of notes and some loose gold, and, as he held out his hand to Derrick, there was something crisp in it.

Derrick shook the hand and pressed back the note; he could not speak for a minute; then he said, rather huskily:

"It's all right, Mr. Bloxford. You paid me on Friday night, and I've plenty to go on with."

With that he went out, heavy-hearted, and Mr. Bloxford stood at the door, his extraordinary face drawn into a thousand wrinkles and his lips shaping strange oaths.