Part 5 (1/2)

”She never said nothing about it to _me_,” he replied; ”I expect she forgot.”

”I can only say it was extremely careless of her,” I said. ”The fact is, I have my doubts whether that tiger is to be trusted.”

”Well, you never can trust a tiger same as you can a lion,” he replied, candidly, ”so I won't deceive you. But old Rajah ain't so particular nasty--as tigers go.”

”He may not be,” I said, ”but, in Miss de Castro's interests, I must beg you to s.h.i.+ft him into some other cage till this affair is over. I can't allow her to run any unnecessary risk.”

”I don't say you're wrong,” he answered, ”I wish I'd known before, I'd have asked the gov'nor.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”If them two got together, there'd be the doose's delight.”]

”Ask him now,” I urged, ”surely you can put the tiger back in the hospital cage for an hour or two.”

”The Jaguar's in there,” he said; ”he was a bit off colour, so we put him there this morning. And if them two got together, there'd be the doose's delight!”

”Couldn't you put him somewhere else, then?” I suggested.

”I _might_ ha' shunted him on to the Armadillo at a pinch,” he said thoughtfully, ”_he_ wouldn't ha' taken any notice, but the gov'nor would have to be consulted first,--and he's engaged in the ring.

Besides, it would take too much time to move old Rajah now--you must put up with him, that's all. You'll be right enough if you keep your head and stick close to me. I've taken care they've all had a good dinner. I say,” he broke off suddenly, ”you're looking uncommon blue.”

”I don't _feel_ nervous,” I said, ”at least, not more nervous than a man _ought_ to feel who's just about to be married. If you mean to suggest that I'm going to show the white feather----!”

”Not you,” he said, ”what would you _get_ by it, you know? After billing this affair all over the town, we can't afford to disappoint the public, and if I saw you hanging back--why I'm blest if I wouldn't carry you into the cage myself.”

I retorted angrily that I would not put him to that inconvenience, that I was as cool as he was, and that I did not understand his remark that I was looking blue.

”Lord, what a touchy chap you are!” he cried; ”I meant looking blue about the jaw, that's all. If I was you, I'd have a clean shave. It's enough to put any lady off if she sees you with a chin like the barrel of a musical-box.”

Somehow I had omitted to shave myself as usual that morning, intending to get shaved later, but had forgotten to look for a hairdresser's shop during my walk.

”You'll find a razor in that drawer,” he said, ”if you don't mind making s.h.i.+ft with cold water, for there's no one about to fetch you any hot. Now I must be off and get into my own togs. Make yourself at home, you know. I'll give you another call later on.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: I was forlornly mopping when Niono returned.]

Perhaps the razor was blunt, perhaps it was the cold water, anyhow I inflicted a gash on the extreme point of my chin which bled profusely.

I dabbed and sluiced, but nothing I could do seemed to check the flow; it went on, obstinate and irrepressible. I was still forlornly mopping when Niono returned in his braided jacket, tights and Hessian boots, whistling a tune.

”The bride's just driven up,” he announced, ”looking like a picture--what pluck she's got! I wish I was in your shoes! Ma'amsell's taken her to her room. My word, though, you've given yourself a nasty cut; got any spider's web about you? Stops it in no time.”

As I do not happen to go about festooned in cobwebs, his suggestion was of little practical value, and so I intimated rather sharply.

”Well, don't get in a fl.u.s.ter,” he said, ”we're only a couple of turns off the Cage Act as it is; you slip into them spicy lavender trousers and that cla.s.sy frock-coat of yours as quick as you can, and I'll try if I can't borrow a bit of courtplaster off one of our ladies.”

I had just put on a clean s.h.i.+rt when he was back again; ”I could only get goldbeater's skin,” he remarked, ”and precious little of that, so be careful with it. And the parson's come, and would like to have a look at the licence.”

I handed him the doc.u.ment, and tried to apply the goldbeater's skin, which curled and shrivelled, and would stick to nothing but my fingers--and still the haemorrhage continued.

”It's all over your s.h.i.+rt _now_!” said the lion-tamer, as if I was doing it on purpose. ”I wouldn't have had this happen for something.