Then, however, Celia's mother broke down under the strain and died.

Captain Harland, a couple of years later, went out of the service with discredit, passed through the bankruptcy court, and turned showman.

His line was thought-reading; he enlisted the services of his daughter, taught her the tricks of his trade, and became "The Great Fortinbras" of the music-halls.

Captain Harland would move amongst the audience, asking the spectators in a whisper to think of a number or of an article in their pockets, after the usual fashion, while the child, in her short frock, with her long fair hair tied back with a ribbon, would stand blind-folded upon the platform and reel off the answers with astonishing rapidity.

She was singularly quick, singularly receptive.
The undoubted cleverness of the performance, and the beauty of the child, brought to them a temporary prosperity.