It is not forgotten that Mr. Nicholas Crips was a man of amatory instincts; he had a very warm if not particularly sincere regard for the sex, and in his brighter moments, when a relapse from his natural dilatoriness induced him to have a clean-shave, a perfunctory combing, and a general trimming-up, ladies of a certain class approaching the middle-ages found him not wholly forbidding.

Nickie’s close application to an artistic career as the leading feature of Professor Thunder’s Museum of Marvels had lifted him out of what had become an habitual impecuniosity, and in his brief unprofessional moments he wore a whole suit and boots that did not openly advertise his sockless condition.

In addition, Nickie was leading a fairly fat and easy life; he had put on condition; he was quite at his best; and a flirtatious matron might have found him a fairly presentable person.  Madame Marve, the Egyptian Mystic, was a good wife to Professor Thunder, and a good mother to Letitia, according to the lights of show people at the conventions of the game, but she was still young enough to appreciate genuine admiration, and had sufficient of the vanity of the profession to roll a lively, dark eye for effect now and again.

Naturally, the lively, dark eye rolled in Nickie’s direction once in a way, and Nickie responded with the beams of a tender, grey orb.  He had a way of languishing a little when only Madame Marve was near, and he 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.