breathed sighs of simple eloquence.

Mr. Nicholas Crips had the primitive instincts of the pure individualist;
fine notions of honour and delicate concepts of propriety had no
influence on his modes of conduct.

It may be inferred in these circumstances that Mr. Crips had no
compunction, about coveting his neighbour's wife.

Madame Marve had a light heart and a plump waist, She did not take
Nickie's advances very seriously, but she found a certain piquancy in the
situation, and was not above a reciprocal sigh or a responsive hand
pressure.

This unlooked-for development in the internal economy of the Museum of
Marvels might have provided Professor Thunder's patrons some amazing
novelties had they been permitted peeps behind the scenes. For instance,
there were occasions when the public was deaf to Professor Thunder's
appeals, and resolutely passed by on the other side. On such occasions
the Egyptian Mystic might have been discovered in the small, back tent,
with white, well-shaped arms bare to the shoulder, busily engaged
fabricating an Irish stew for the evening meal. The Museum was very
partial to Irish stew, even the Living Skeleton liked the smell of it.
Ten to one the Missing Link would be found hovering about Madame at such
a time, garbed in his simian costume, but with the mask-like make-up
turned back, exposing Nickie's florid countenance and rakish grin.
Possibly at such moments Nickie would presume to squeeze Madame's waist.
He might even venture to steal a kiss. If so, Madame's protest might be
forcible, but it would not be vindictive.

Madame was not disposed to quarrel with Nickie; he was a profitable
adjunct; the Museum had never possessed so versatile a missing link, and,
as for a little philandering--pooh, it was all in a lifetime.

The tents were pitched at Catcat. The situation was similar to that
described above, but Professor Thunder had the bad taste to intrude when
Nickie was in the act of forcibly extracting a kiss in revenge. Madame
Marve having playfully covered him with flour.

Professor Thunder was a jealous man, and an inflammatory one. He uttered
a roar that would not have discredited the Missing Link in its native
jungle in the wilds of Darkest Africa.

"You infernal blackguard!" he yelled.

"Now, Jim," cried Madame Marve in sudden alarm, standing between the men
with her paste pin.

"Out of my way, woman!" cried the Professor, tossing her aside.

Professor Thunder fell upon Ni