Case with 4 Clowns by Leo Bruce Read Free Book Online Page A

pure motion from the flesh and blood which was creating it, and like music, or the dipping swallows in the summer, they left behind them the evanescent curves of a beautiful design. A design which had disappeared as soon as it was formed, but which left its impression on the mind. I felt a little sad at the quickness of its vanishing.
    Too soon the act was finished, and the stormy applause from the audience aroused me as the two white horses galloped out of the ring side by side as they had entered. I found myself applauding vigorously.
    â€œOf course,” I heard Beef’s voice sarcastically beside me, “it wouldn’t do to say you was biased, would it?”
    Feeling misjudged, I kept silent, and watched the far side of the ring for the next turn. It was the performing seal—known as Eustace—which Corinne Jackson showed. She entered now, her arms held above her head, introducing herself in the traditional circus manner, while the seal followed her in, sprawling along in the sawdust and giving an occasional coughing sound, as if in self-encouragement.
    I found the turn rather dull, although I heard Beef chuckling with the rest of the audience when, after each particular trick, Eustace lay on his side in the ring and slapped his flippers together to show his own appreciation of what he had just done. A sudden whispering at the entrance to the tent diverted my attention, and I turned to see two of the attendants talking earnestly together.
    â€œVarda me parlari, col,” one of them called quietly across the ring, and then followed a dozen or so sentences in the circus language which I did not understand, but which were answered by one of the attendants in the ring. In a few moments half a dozen men were making their way asunobtrusively as possible towards the exit, while Corinne continued her act as if nothing were happening, and the audience seemed completely unaware that anything unusual had occurred. I turned to Beef.
    â€œCome on,” he said briskly, “something’s happening.”
    â€œWhat were they saying?” I asked.
    â€œWell, I only caught some of it, but there’s been an accident or something outside,” said Beef as we made our way out into the open. For a moment I could see nothing unusual as I looked quickly round the tober, but then I noticed a small crowd of six or seven people grouped by the steps of the Concinis’ wagon. Jackson hurried past us in that direction, and Beef and I followed, pushing our way quickly up the steps.
    The wagon seemed crowded with the artists and hands, so that it was impossible to move, but Beef took the situation in at a glance.
    â€œCome on,” he said firmly to everybody in general, “no good hanging about like this. Let’s have the wagon to ourselves for a bit, will you?”
    Silently they obeyed him, leaving only five of us in the narrow wagon, and at last I saw what no doubt Beef had already noticed or guessed at; the still form of one of the twins lying on the bed. Gypsy Margot was crouched beside her on the floor, staring as one mesmerized and vainly rubbing the girl’s hands.
    Beef walked briskly over to the bed and bent over the figure. The girl’s back was bare, as if she had been changing after her act, and she lay across the bed, sprawling, as if from a fall, with one foot just touching the floor.
    â€œWhich one is this?” asked Beef. “Anita or Helen?”
    â€œAnita,” answered Margot. “How could it have happened? I was only out of the wag …”
    â€œAll right,” said Beef. “We can save that till afterwards. Let’s have a look at her.”
    His thick fingers gently touched the flesh around a long bleeding wound on Anita’s back.
    â€œWater—lint—bandages,” he said curtly.
    When they were brought to him he proceeded to bind the wound, passing the strips of linen over and round Anita’s shoulder. His usually clumsy-looking