WILLIAM AND THE WAXWORK PRINCE 105
standing outside the window, his eyes and mouth wide open, his unbuttoned overcoat disclosing a black velvet suit and a lace collar. The power of movement returned to William, but too late. With surprising agility Mr. Markson had flung himself across the room and through the open window and his hand closed on William's neck just as William's power of movement was returning.
The crisis was over. The Outlaws assembled again in the old barn to discuss the matter. They had taken back the waxwork to its proprietor, prepared for a scene almost as unpleasant as the one in which William and Mr. Markson had played the leading parts. But the proprietor of the waxwork show was unexpectedly benign. His waxwork show was being an unprecedented success. Queues stood half-way down the fair ground waiting to come in. Various rumours were afloat about it. One was to the effect that one of the waxworks was alive and that you got £10 if you guessed which one it was. Another was that they all came miraculously to life every twenty minutes and if you were lucky you might catch them at it. It was generally understood that even if neither of these things were true, there was something unusual about the waxwork show and that it should not be missed. The showman had doubled his entrance fee and still they came. The bored-looking youth (now strawless and no longer bored) was giving wildly exaggerated accounts of the coming to life of the Little Prince in the Tower. A woman in very large spectacles and a dress of hand-woven tweed was saying that she could tell by the atmosphere that elementals were at work here and that someone ought to send for the Psychical Research Society.
The showman examined his figure, found it uninjured and dismissed the Outlaws with a " You try it on again, my boys, and you'll hear something."