  The first red streaks of dawn were appearing as Johnny sat down on the beam of a railroad bridge a quarter of a mile from the wreck. It had been a strange, wild night. Many startling things had happened; many mysteries had been solved. Now that these mysteries were uncovered he had come down here to think. Tom Stick was not one of the counterfeiters; he knew that now. Neither was the steam kettle cook, nor the conman with the ragged ear. The real culprits had attempted to cast the guilt upon them, that was all. The arch criminal, Black McCree, was dead. Jo-Jo, the elephant, had thrashed the life out of him when McCree had attempted to murder his master, the midget clown. The fat accomplice of Black McCree had confessed that his partner was that notorious criminal. He had denied having any knowledge of the working of that strange color-photo camera. Black McCree had chosen to take that secret with him to the other world. Pant had turned the whole matter over to two of his assistants and had disappeared. That the remains of the camera could be pieced together was doubtful. In the struggle with Black McCree, Tom Stick had been beaten into unconsciousness, and had suffered severe bruises, but would be back at his work in two or three weeks. The twins had been taken to a near-by farm house, where they were safe for the night. Fortunately, their ponies had come out of the wreck uninjured. In an hour or two Johnny would accompany them to their grandparents’ home. Should he return to the circus? He doubted it. The mystery of the whereabouts of the diamond ring was yet unsolved. Gwen had had it. So had Millie. He half blamed himself for not demanding the right to keep it when it was in his own hand. But Gwen was such a good sport. He had hoped a more appropriate time might come. Now he believed he would go to his former employer and make the best of an unbelievable story. He made a wry face at thought of it. But Pant? He had disappeared again. Johnny had not seen him after the fight with the black cat. Mother Kelly had dressed his wounds, which were slight, and he had vanished. At thought of Pant, Johnny dug into his pocket and drew forth the mass of wires, tubes and instruments which he had picked up on the spot where the cat had attacked Pant. He toyed with this mass musingly. He thought it had dropped from Pant’s pocket. “Some part of the counterfeiters’ equipment,” was his mental comment. Twisting the wires about, he turned a thumb-screw here, pushed a tiny lever there, pressed a bulb—when, of a sudden, his eyes were struck by a blinding flash of blood red light. His unnerved fingers released the mass of wires, tubes and instruments, and the next instant his startled eyes saw it disappear beneath the muddy waters of the river. “The crimson flash!” he moaned. “And I had the secret of it here within my grasp!” For a time he considered the possibilities of recovering it, then dismissed the thought as futile. Then for a while he sat there speculating on the strange phenomenon of the crimson flash. How had Pant achieved these wonders? Where had he worn this mass of delicate instruments? There were times when the flash had come and gone with the speed of the blink of an eye. Perhaps the switch had been attached to Pant’s eyelid. Such things had been done. Yet, all this was speculation. Johnny shook his mind free from it. Speculation is always futile. He was about to rise and return to the wreck, which was even now assuming the appearance of a train again, when he heard footsteps approaching. It was Gwen. Johnny rose to meet her as she came toward him. “Sit down, Mr. Clown,” she smiled. “I want to talk.” “You’re a good old clown,” she smiled again, as they seated themselves, “even if you did come near breaking your neck.” “Somebody fired the balloons with arrows shot from an air rifle.” “What!” “Sure. I thought it was Tom Stick, but it wasn’t. He saved my life last night. Guess someone must have stolen his air rifle to pull the trick.” “As I was about to say,” continued Gwen, “you’re a good old clown, and just for that I want to give you something. So, ‘open your mouth and shut your eyes, and I’ll give you something to make you wise.’” “Steady there,” warned Johnny, as he cupped his hands solidly together. “If it’s of any value don’t drop it. I’ve lost one secret in the river already.” “It’s valuable, all right.” Johnny felt something touch his hand. The instant his fingers closed upon it, he knew what it was. “The ring!” he exclaimed. “Yes; that’s it,” she laughed. “The twins told me all about it last night. Of course we didn’t know it was yours, or we wouldn’t have kept it. When we first found it, we three girls thought it was glass. When we discovered it was a real diamond, we were already in Chicago and didn’t know what to do, so we just kept it, and took turns wearing it. But Johnny, when you had it in your hands that day, why didn’t you keep it?” “That’s what I don’t know,” smiled Johnny. “I guess you were such a good sport I hated to lose you as a friend, and I hoped a better time would come.” “It has come, Johnny; but something tells me I am the one to lose a pal. You’ll leave the circus?” “Yes,” Johnny admitted reluctantly. “I guess I’m going to do that.” “It’s always the way with a person who is used to living in a house,” sighed Gwen. “The circus is for circus people. Anyway, I can wish you good luck!” They rose. She put out her hand. He gripped it heartily. “And Johnny, if ever the big top calls to you, just remember the outfit I’m with, and there’ll be a job waiting for you. I’ll want you for my clown.” She turned and walked rapidly away. Johnny watched her for a moment, then, crossing the bridge, made his way toward the farm house where the twins were awaiting him. He would escort them back to a safe dwelling place; the ring should be returned to them, and if possible, he was resolved that the circus career of the millionaire twins should be a secret shared only by those to whom it was already known. |
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