"I've asked you not to mention that fact to me, Braddock. You are supposed to stay with the show as manager and overseer." "Humph!" grunted the other. "You want to be as much shocked as the rest of 'em when I skip by the light of the moon, eh?" "We'll sign the paper," was the only response of the purchaser. Ten minutes later, after two men had witnessed their signatures, the document reposed in Bob Grand's pocketbook. The next morning Mary Braddock appeared before the master of Van Slye's Circus and offered her interest for sale. He calmly announced that he could not afford to put any more money into the concern. "I must sell out," she said. "All the money I have in the world is in this show." "It could not be better invested," he said. She shrank from the look in his eyes. "But I need it for Christine's education," she began. "I will see to it that Christine is given the best of everything, Mary. Leave it to me. She shall be sent abroad next year, if you think best." "I am asking no favors of you, Colonel Grand." "It may interest you to know that I have purchased your husband's entire interest in this show," he said softly. She stared, spellbound. "He--he has sold out to you?" she murmured, going white to the lips. "You seem surprised." "He could not do it! It is necessary to have my consent. I--I--" Her brain was whirling. "I understood that he was a perfectly free agent. I can send him to the penitentiary if he has swindled me. If you and Christine care to take that sort of stand against him, I'll have to do it. I should be terribly sorry on the girl's account, but--Oh, well, I'm sure it won't come to that." "He--he has sold me out?" she cried weakly. "Oh, hardly that!" Unable to speak another word to him, she turned and blindly made her way to the women's dressing-room. The Colonel smiled comfortably as he lifted his hat to her retreating back. Late that night four or five persons slipped out of the hotel by the rear doors. At the mouth of the dark alley a hack was waiting. With the utmost caution this small, closely huddled group approached the rickety vehicle. Three women climbed in, followed by numerous valises and small bags; their two male companions mounted the seat with the driver. Off through the still night rattled the mysterious cab, clattering across the cobbled streets for many minutes until at last it drew up at the darkest end of the railway station platform. Three trunks stood against the wall of the station building. One of the men attended to the checking of these heavy pieces, presenting two railway tickets for the guidance of the sleepy agent. The other stood guard over the cab and its occupants.