most conscientious artist wishes to be
himself once now and again, if merely for a change.

The shop in Wangaroo occupied by the Museum of Marvels was rented from a
Chinese greengrocer, who carried on a business next door. The place had
originally been one shop, but Kit See, with the frugality of his race,
had partitioned it roughly, and with Oriental astuteness let the half for
nearly as much as he paid for the whole.

Kit See was a stout, cream Confucian with an oleaginous smile, and the
gentle, propitiatory man of an inferior people, cunning enough to realise
that if you cannot dominate it is wisest to be docile. He had a good
stock, a good business, a half-caste wife, and a noiseless, placid,
slit-eyed baby about the size of a Bologna sausage.

The Missing Link discovered this much through a crack in the partition,
and amused himself with his eyes glued to the slit when there were no
professional demands on his time and talents.

Most things that Mahdi did irritated Ammonia, whose jealousy and hatred
were intensified by Nickie's habit, when in a playful humour, of teasing
the gorilla by ostentatiously devouring delicacies Ammonia particularly
affected in Ammonia's sight, almost within his reach.

Nickie's interest in that hole in the wall was a course of consuming
anxiety to Ammonia. While Mahdi had his eye to the wall, the gorilla
would cling to the bars of his cage, pushing his blunt nose through, and
gibber and spit and protest in a high-pitched, querulous growl.

"Blime, yiv got the noble Ammonia goin' this trip, Nickie," said the
Living Skeleton.

"Yes," replied Nickie, still with his eye to the crack, "that beast will
have to learn decency and good conduct, Matty, my man. I aspire to teach
him moral restraint."

"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