"Well, I don't know," was the slow answer.
"I can fix it up if you want to see him--that is, if the doctors and nurses will let you," said the policeman. "I know the hospital superintendent. You just tell him that Casey sent you and it will be all right."
There was a little time after supper before the performers had to go on with their acts, and Helen prevailed on Joe to take her to the hospital whither the injured fire-eater had been removed. They found him swathed in bandages, no objection being made to their seeing him after the magic name of "Casey" had been mentioned to the superintendent.
"We came in to see if you needed any help," said Joe to the pathetic figure in the bed. "We're in the same line of business, in a way."
"Are you a fire-eater?" slowly asked the man.
"No," Joe told him. "But I'm in the circus--Sampson Brothers'."
"Oh, yes, I've heard about it. A partner of mine was with 'em for years. Gascoyne was his name."
"That was before my time," said Joe. "But how are you getting on? Can we be of any help to you? We professionals must help one another."
"That's right. We get knocked often enough," was the reply. "Well, I'm doing as well as can be expected, the doctor says. And I'm not really in need of anything. The museum folks were pretty good to me. Thank you, just the same."
"Oh, just my carelessness," said the man. "We get careless after playing with fire a bit. I put too much alcohol on the tow, and there was a draft from an open door, some draperies caught, and it was all going before I knew it. I tried to put it out--that's how I got burned."
"Then you really didn't eat fire?" asked Helen.
Joe and the man swathed in bandages looked at one another and a semblance of a wink passed between them.
"Nobody can eat fire, lady," said the museum performer. "It's all a trick, same as some your husband does in the circus."
"We're not married yet, but we're going to be," explained Joe, smiling.
"Lucky guy!" murmured the man. "Well, as I was saying, it's all a trick," he went on. "Strong alum solution in your mouth, just a dash of alcohol to make a blaze that flares up but goes out quickly if you smother it right. You know the game," and he looked at Joe.
"Well, not exactly," was the reply. "I've read something of it. But, somehow, it never appealed to me."