Following the usual announcement by Jim Tracy, Joe got into the box.  It was locked and roped and then Helen took her place, as did the fireman with his gleaming ax.

Joe worked unusually quickly that night in getting out of the box.  He knew this haste would not spoil the illusion of the trick.  In fact it really heightened it.  For he was out of the heavy box in much shorter time than it had taken the volunteer committee to lock him in.

And Joe was glad no one came forward at this performance to claim the ten thousand dollars.  That would have taken up time, and time, just then, was what Joe wanted most.

“Evidently none of you know how the trick is done,” commented the ringmaster, when his offer of ten thousand dollars was not taken advantage of.  “We will now proceed to the next illusion, that of causing a beautiful lady to disappear and vanish into thin air before your very eyes.  There is no reward offered for the solution of this mystery.”

Helen then took her place on the trick chair over the trap in the stage.  The silk shawl was placed over her, and, in due time, the chair was shown empty.

The usual applause followed and Joe was glad his acts were over for the time.  Bowing to acknowledge the fervor of the audience, Joe started toward his dressing apartment.

“I want to see you as soon as I can,” he quickly told Helen.  “But I have to go away.  It’s about Ham,” he added.  “I’ve heard from him.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.  Just a scrawled note.  The messenger who brought it is going to take me to him.”

“Oh, Joe, I’m so glad you’ve heard from him.  I liked him.”

“I did too.  I hope I can continue to like him.  But I’m afraid, from the tone of his note, that he’s broken his pledge.  However, we can’t expect too much.  Don’t go away for an hour or so.  I’ll be back as soon as I can and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’ll wait for you,” promised Helen.

As Joe hurried across the arena he saw the tent man who had given him the note.

“Where’s the boy?” he asked.

“I took him to your tent.  Paddy Flynn is there and Loper.  Is anything the matter, Mr. Strong?”

“Oh, nothing that can’t be made right, I hope.”

Joe found a red-haired boy sitting on the edge of a folding chair in the dressing tent.  The lad was looking wonderingly about the place.

“Did you bring this note?” asked Joe, showing the crumpled paper.

“Sure I did!  And say, I wish I could see the show!”

“You can to-night after you take me to Mr. Logan,” replied Joe.  “You know where he is, don’t you?”

“Sure I do!  Didn’t he give me the note to bring youse?”

“Where is he?”

“Down in Kelly’s joint.  I live next door.”

“What is Kelly’s joint?”

“A saloon,” answered the red-haired boy.  “De name on de winders is cafe, but they don’t pronounce it that way—­anyhow some of ’em don’t.  It oughter be cave I guess.  It sure is a joint!”