It was the only way their lives could be saved, and he was the only man to see it.  He watched us until the girls touched the floor more dead than alive, and then his head fell back and the life seemed to go suddenly out of him like the flame out of a candle, leaving only the dead wick.

As they were carrying him out I noticed for the first time that a woman was holding his hand.  It was that frail little wisp of a Susy, that used to blush and tremble if you spoke to her suddenly, and here she was quite quiet and steady in the midst of this great crowd.

“His sister, I suppose” one of the doctors said to her.

“No, sir.  If he lives I will be his wife.”  The old gentleman was very respectful to her after that, I noticed.

Now, the rest of my story is very muddled, you’ll say, and confused.  But the truth is, I don’t understand it myself.  I ran on ahead to Mrs. Peters’s to prepare his bed for him, but they did not bring him to Peters’s.  After I waited an hour or two I found George had been taken to the principal hotel in the place, and a bedroom and every comfort that money could buy were there for him.  Susy came home sobbing late in the night, but she told me nothing, except that those who had a right to have charge of him had taken him.  I found afterward the poor girl was driven from the door of his room, where she was waiting like a faithful dog.  I went myself, but I fared no better.  What with surgeons and professional nurses, and the gentlemen that crowded about with their solemn looks of authority, I dared not ask to see him.  Yet I believe still George would rather have had old Loper by him in his extremity than any of them.  Once, when the door was opened, I thought I saw Mrs. Lloyd stooping over the bed between the lace curtains, and just then her husband came out talking to one of the surgeons.

He said:  “It is certain there were here the finest elements of manhood.  And I will do my part to rescue him from the abyss into which he has fallen.”

“Will you tell me how George is, sir?” I asked, pushing up.  “Balacchi?  My partner?”

Mr. Lloyd turned away directly, but the surgeon told me civilly enough that if George’s life could be saved, it must be with the loss of one or perhaps both of his legs.

“He’ll never mount a trapeze again, then,” I said, and I suppose I groaned; for to think of George helpless—­

“God forbid!” cried Mr. Lloyd, sharply.  “Now look here, my good man:  you can be of no possible use to Mr.—­Balacchi as you call him.  He is in the hands of his own people, and he will feel, as they do, that the kindest thing you can do is to let him alone.”

There was nothing to be done after that but to touch my hat and go out, but as I went I heard him talking of “inexplicable madness and years of wasted opportunities.”