things have happened to annoy you."

The color came back into her face; amazement dominated her anger. "But
why--why do you keep such creatures?"

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked. "It is my profession."

"Your--what?"

"My profession," he repeated doggedly.

"Oh," she said, revolted, "that is not true! You are a gentleman--I know
who you are perfectly well!"

"Who am I?"

She called him by name, almost angrily.

"Well," he said sullenly, "what of it? If you have investigated my record
you must know I am as poor as these miserable mice."

"I--I know it. But you are a gentleman----"

"I am a mountebank," he said; "I mean a mountebank in its original
interpretation. There's neither sense nor necessity for me to deny it."

"I--I don't understand you," she whispered, shocked.

"Why, I do monkey tricks to entertain people," he replied, forcing a
laugh, "or rather, I hope to do a few--and be paid for them. I fancy