r, but keeping sedulously to the
shadows at the back of the cage. Madame Marve stirred him up with the
long stick kept for the purpose, and the Professor dwelt with feeling on
the worst features of the animal's character. Mrs. Spink peered with
especial eagerness.

Mrs. Martha Spink paid twice for admission before sundown, and at night
she came again. She betrayed extraordinary curiosity concerning the
characteristics and peculiarities of missing links, and her concern had a
powerful effect upon Mahdi. His diffidence was so marked that the
Professor was constrained to excuse it in his descriptive address. "The
poor animal is afflicted with toothache to-day," he said. "Like the best
of us he has his morbid moments."

"S'pose she'll be lookin' yeh up agen t'day, Nickie," whispered the
Living Skeleton through Mahdi's bars next morning.

The Missing Link snorted. "I wish the Professor would bet out of this
hole," he said. "If that terrific creature discovers the truth, I am
lost."

Nickie had not left the cage all night, preferring to sleep in his skin
rather than risk a sudden descent on the part of the enemy.

"What'd yeh do it fer?" said the Skeleton; "a great lath-an'-plaster
she-emu like that, too."

"Not having anything else to do, Matthew," moaned the Missing Link. "I
always was tender with women."

"Well, yiv gotter look out, ol' man. If she nails yer, yer a gone link,
that's er cert."

"For two pins I'd retire from the profession," said Nickie. "It exposes a
man to too much temptation."

The lorn widow did not appear that morning. The afternoon passed, and
Mrs. Spink had not been heard from. There was a good crowd in at
half-past eight, and Professor Thunder was giving his instructive and
entertaining description of the life and habits of the Missing Link in
the dark jungles of Central Africa. The Link had recovered confidence
somewhat. He ventured to show himself at the front of the cage, he
capered and gibbered, and at that point where Thunder dwelt upon the
courage and fierceness of the man-monkey in fighting for his young,
Nickie jumped forward, clawing through the bars, and uttering
blood-curling growls.

At that moment his eye fell upon a face that thrust itself forward out of
the press; his gaze encountered the eager scrutiny of a grim, green eye,
behind glass. It was the eye of Widow Spink.

"It's him," cried the widow. She rushed for ward; she battered at the
Missing Link with her umbrella,