“I can’t, senor—­I can’t!  I can’t!”

“But I tell you you must.”

And just here an interruption came.

“Bad advice, my dear captain,” said a voice—­Cleek’s voice—­from the other end of the tent; and with a twist and a snarl the “senor” screwed round on his heel in time to see that other intruders were putting in an appearance as well as this unwelcome one.

“Who the deuce asked you for your opinion?” rapped out the “senor” savagely.  “And what are you doing in here, anyhow?  If we want the service of a vet., we’re quite capable of getting one for ourselves without having him shove his presence upon us unasked.”

“You are quite capable of doing a great many things, my dear captain, even making lions smile!” said Cleek serenely.  “It would appear that the gallant Captain von Gossler, nephew, and, in the absence of one who has a better claim, heir to the late Baron von Steinheid—­That’s it, nab the beggar.  Played, sir, played!  Hustle him out and into the cab, with his precious confederate, the Irish-Italian ‘signor,’ and make a clean sweep of the pair of them.  You’ll find it a neck-stretching game, captain, I’m afraid, when the jury comes to hear of that poor boy’s death and your beastly part in it.”

By this time the tent was in an uproar, for the chevalier’s wife had come hurrying in, the chevalier’s daughter was on the verge of hysterics, and the chevalier’s prospective son-in-law was alternately hugging the great beast-tamer and then shaking his hand and generally deporting himself like a respectable young man who had suddenly gone daft.

“Governor!” he cried, half laughing, half sobbing.  “Bully old governor.  It’s over—­it’s over.  Never any more danger, never any more hard times, never any more lion’s smiles.”

“No, never,” said Cleek.  “Come here, Madame Pullaine, and hear the good news with the rest.  You married for love, and you’ve proved a brick.  The dream’s come true, and the life of ease and of luxury is yours at last, Mr. Pullaine.”

“But, sir, I—­I do not understand,” stammered the chevalier.  “What has happened?  Why have you arrested the Senor Sperati?  What has he done?  I cannot comprehend.”

“Can’t you?  Well, it so happens, chevalier, that the Baron von Steinheid died something like two months ago, leaving the sum of sixty thousand pounds sterling to one Peter Janssen Pullaine and the heirs of his body, and that a certain Captain von Gossler, son of the baron’s only sister, meant to make sure that there was no Peter Janssen Pullaine and no heirs of his body to inherit one farthing of it.”

“Sir!  Dear God, can this be true?”