The story begins with the explanation of that circumstance which
had greatly puzzled Mr. Ricardo--Celia's entry into the household
of Mme. Dauvray.
Celia's father was a Captain Harland, of a marching regiment, who
had little beyond good looks and excellent manners wherewith to
support his position. He was extravagant in his tastes, and of an
easy mind in the presence of embarrassments. To his other
disadvantages he added that of falling in love with a pretty girl
no better off than himself. They married, and Celia was born. For
nine years they managed, through the wife's constant devotion, to
struggle along and to give their daughter an education. 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. The Great
Fortinbras rose from the music-halls to the assembly rooms of
provincial towns. The performance became genteel, and ladies
flocked to the matinees.