CHAPTER XXV.

FOUND!

When the performance came to an end Fortune suggested to Uncle William that he should go to the best hotel in the place, and give Iris and Apollo some tea. Iris was loath to leave Fortune's side, but Fortune bent down and whispered to her to obey.

"I am on the trail," she said, "and I don't want to be interrupted. I don't mind telling you, Iris, that the tea is all an excuse. You get your uncle to take you to the hotel, and keep him there until I join him. Now, go off this minute, like a good girl."

Iris looked into Fortune's small, but honest, eyes, and felt once again that her feel was leading her in the right direction.

"Uncle William, I should like some tea very much," she said.

"Well, then, my dear, if you want tea you shall have it," replied Uncle William.

He hailed a fly, and took the children immediately to the best hotel in the town.

When Fortune found herself alone she turned round, and gazed to right and left of her. The great tent was almost empty, for the spectators had all departed; a few, however, were standing in little groups talking to one another. Fortune edged near one of these. It consisted of a good-looking young man and two pretty girls. They were standing opposite the poster which gave such a lifelike account of little Diana and Orion.

"I see you are reading that poster," said Fortune, "and maybe you're interested?"

"Why, of course we are," said one of the girls, turning and looking at Fortune.

"Now, I wonder," continued Fortune Squeers, "if it lies anywhere in your power to give me a bit of help? Fact is, I'm interested in the children described in that poster, and as I was sitting inside the circus, I heard a neighbor say that the children belonging to your show were not present. Being an American, I never lose any clews, and there may be just the ghost of a chance that the children who were not at the performance to-day are the very identical same children that are written about in that there poster. Maybe you has heard of those children--that is, if you are Madersley folk?"

"Yes, yes; we are Madersley folk," said the young man, now turning and speaking eagerly to Fortune.

"Well, sir, do you know anything about the children who were not in the circus to-day?"

"I have heard of them, of course," said the man. "Don't you remember, Amelia," he added, "when I came home last Sat.u.r.day night how I told you we must go and see Holt's circus, for he had got a little girl who was riding wonderfully? I could not manage it on Sat.u.r.day, and to-day, it seems, she's off."

"And he had a boy as well, hadn't he?" said Fortune.

"Yes, there was talk of a boy; but he didn't seem to have the spirit of his sister. Anyhow, they are neither of them playing to-day, and, for my part, I thought the performance lame."

"Well, that's my opinion," said Fortune. "No American would go the length of the road to see anything so poor and common. And so the children are off--but the children were on. Now, I wish to goodness I could see those children."

"I don't suppose they have anything to do with the lost children who are spoken of in these posters," said the man. "They say they were brown as gypsies, that the boy was timid, and the girl rode wonderfully. She must have been trained for some time to ride as well as she did."

Not being able to get anything more out of these folks, Fortune turned on her heel and wandered in another direction. She crossed the entrance to the great tent, and made for the exit at the opposite side of the field. In doing this she ran right up against a fair-haired, rather pretty circus girl.

"My dear," said Fortune, "you'll excuse my stopping to speak to you, but will you tell me if I can get into the town by the gate yonder?"

"It's rather a roundabout way," answered the girl, "but you can go, of course. You will have to walk quite a way down a country lane, then turn to your left, and it will bring you to the other side of the town."

"Fact is," continued Fortune, "I'm anxious to see some more of those posters. I'm mighty took with them. They seem to describe a most elegant little pair of children."

The girl uttered a sigh and changed color.

"Maybe, miss," said Fortune, fixing her with her keen eyes, "you can tell me something about 'em? Now, if you could, and would, it would be worth your while."

"Oh, I know nothing at all," said the girl, in alarm. "What should I know?"

"How is it," continued Fortune, "that the little children belonging to your circus were not present this afternoon? It seems a sort of cheating of the public."

"The little children belonging to our circus?" repeated the girl. "But we hasn't no children." She turned very white now, and suddenly leaving Fortune, ran as fast as ever she could in the direction of the tent.

Fortune followed her with her eyes. She saw a dark man peeping out.

"That girl is frightened; she's hiding something," thought the woman.

"There's no doubt the trail strengthens, and I, being an American--well, well, 'taint likely I'm going to leave off now. Yes, hot grows the trail."

Fortune pursued her way. She had just reached the gate of the opposite exit of the field when a light hand was laid on her arm. Turning quickly, she saw the same girl.

"For the love of G.o.d, madam," she said, "don't you tell on me--it's as much as my place is worth--he would kill me, if he knew--but we had two little kids here, and that poster in front of the circus gives their very description to a hair. But they have run away--they ran away some days ago, and G.o.d in heaven only knows where they are now."

"What were their names?" asked Fortune.

"Diana was the name of the girl----"

"Diana!" cried Fortune. "You need not tell me any more; and so it was _you_ who stole 'em?"

"I!" said the girl; "I had nothing to do with it. I was kind to 'em when I could, and nothing would ever frighten Diana. But oh, please, promise you won't tell on me--you won't let out that I said anything?"

"No, my dear; I won't injure you," said Fortune; "but I must know this: When was it they ran away?"

"Three nights ago, madam; and Ben Holt, he's fairly wild at losing the girl. He doesn't think anything at all about the boy, but the little girl--why, she won us all, she was so plucky and fearless. But they ran away three nights back, and no one knows where they are."

"Don't keep me," said Fortune. "I'm much obliged to you; but don't keep me now."

She left the field where the tent was, and began to walk rapidly down the lane.

"Now, am I an American or am I not?" she thought. "Do I, or do I not, want the police to interfere in this matter? Do I, or do I not, want to find those children my very own self? They were here three nights ago, and they have run away. What can be the meaning of it?"

Fortune pressed her hand to her forehead.

"Well, if there's one thing more evident than another." she muttered after a pause, "it's this: I must not leave Madersley at present. I'll just go to the hotel and tell Mr. Dolman that I am on the trail, and that not all the coaxing and all the worriting in the world will get me off it until I have found those children."

No sooner had this resolve formed itself in Fortune's stalwart mind than she hailed a fly and desired the man to drive her to the Madersley Arms. When she reached the big hotel she was shown at once into Mr. Dolman's presence.

"Now, sir," she said; "I hope you have all had a good tea and enjoyed it."

"Very much, thank you," replied Uncle William, who really, if the truth must be known, was having quite a delightful time--no Aunt Jane to pull him up, no sermons to write, and a vast amount of variety to occupy his mind. "We have enjoyed our tea, all of us," he said; "and now, Fortune, would not you like a cup? Iris, my dear, we'll ring the bell for some more hot water."

"Thank you, sir" replied Fortune; "but I have no time to eat nor drink at present. I am on the trail, and no one can get me off it."