“He’ll do you a bad turn one o’ them days, mark me.”

“I believe not,” said the Missing Link.  “I’ve got something here that will always reduce him to reason.”  Nickie touched his breast.  “I say, Matthew, this Chow next door is a luxurious heathen.  He’s got all sorts of lovely preserved fruits in beautiful juices, and cakes, and ginger floating in its own gravy, and there is a bottle of Chinese brand under the counter.  Now, Matthew, I think it is a sin to encourage the inferior races to indulge in intoxicants.”

“Don’t,” cried the Living Skeleton, a ring of anguish in his tones.  “Yeh know, it’s agin the rules t’ talk t’ me of things t’ eat.  It makes me fat.”  Poor Matty Cann groaned aloud.  “Is there anythin’ substantial?” he asked pitifully.

“Not just now,” said Nickie, “but last night I watched the Chow and his missus dining on roast duck.  You notice there’s a door in this partition just at the back of my cage.  Curious, is it not?  Well, I found an old rusty key in the crack under the wall, and it fits the lock of that door.  Remarkable that, don’t you think?  Now, I shan’t be surprised if some of those Chow delicacies find their way in here most unaccountably.”

“What’s it t’ me if they do?” sighed Matty.  “I wouldn’t dare t’ eat ’em.  If I did the boss would find I was puttin’ on flesh, an’ I’d be doin’ a bunk.”

“But I suppose a drop of Chinese brandy wouldn’t entirely spoil your figure, my boy.”

The Chinese delicacies did find their way into the cage of the Missing Link, quite a fine assortment of them, also the bottle of Celestial spirits.  Ammonia witnessed the process of transference that night, and nearly went mad in his cage, springing about wildly, clinging to the bars, squealing and certainly blaspheming in his peculiar monkey gibberish, and Nicholas Crips sat in his cage, impishly eager to goad his enemy to fury, and ate luscious figs and fine preserves, while the gorilla strained at the intervening bars and shrilled his anguish.

After this there were other casual visits to the shop of Kit See, and Ammonia’s curiosity concerning the mysterious place from which the Missing Link drew such delectable supplies kept him at the back of his cage for hours together, peering at the wall, scratching it, and whining impotently.

Evidently Kit See was troubled in his mind, too, for he came into the show to examine the door in the wall, and finding the cage of the Missing Link right up against it, and the formidable monster sleeping in the straw, was satisfied that the petty larcenist found access to his goods in some other way.

On the Sunday, Nickie and the Living Skeleton walked abroad, seeing the sights of Wangaroo, including a waterfall; a hanging rock, and a cemetery, the latter the favourite resort of the elite and fashion of Wangaroo on Sundays.  Mat’s skeleton proportions were disguised in a long overcoat, and Nickie wore a loud theatrical suit, and a conspicuous clean-shave.  He thought he looked like Henry Irving.  He didn’t see why he shouldn’t.