Chapter One.
The Arrest.
It was a ferociously hot day at the beginning of the summer vac. I, as in duty bound, had been spending my first day as a well-conducted, newly broken-up schoolboy should.
Being fully impressed with the importance of combining self-improvement with all my recreations, I had been in the morning to the Zoo, where I had eaten buns with the elephant, cracked jokes and nuts with the monkeys, prodded the hippopotamus, got a rise out of the grizzly, made the lions roar, had a row with the chimpanzee, and generally enjoyed myself.
Then I had done the Tower. This only took ten minutes, as the place was horribly slow, and fellows looked after you wherever you went.
After that I had had a turn at the circus, to study the habits of the horse in a state of nature. I should have liked this more if the clown had not been such a muff. He wasn’t half up to his business, and consequently the place was not as improving as it ought to have been. So I shook off the dust of it from my feet, and, after laying some apples and other things aboard, took an omnibus to Madame Tussaud’s, where I knew I should see some fellows of my acquaintance, and be able to improve my mind in good company.
You must know I had pulled off the third history prize in our division last term, and therefore felt more or less friendly disposed to the kings and queens generally, and was even a little curious to see what they looked like, now that I was supposed to know more about them than most fellows do.
To tell the truth, although I had several times been to Madame Tussaud’s before, I had invariably cut these grand people and devoted myself to another part of the establishment, which boys are usually supposed to understand better. Even on the present occasion it was necessary to pay a visit to those regions, since several celebrated historical figures were kept down there, which I felt I must on no account miss seeing.
But after I had thoroughly explored that portion, making the acquaintance of all the new-comers, putting my head into the guillotine, taking a turn in the condemned cell, sitting in Napoleon’s carriage, and otherwise informing myself concerning the seamy side of human nature, I determined to be virtuous and devote at least half an hour to the study of the royalties in the Great Hall.
The enterprise was not to be undertaken without refreshment. I therefore took a preliminary excursion to the ground floor, where the historical costumes are kept, and, close beside them, the ices, buns, Victoria sandwiches, ginger-beer, Turkish delight, lemon squashes, and other wholesome aids to historical research. Here I dallied a little—just long enough to repair the ravages of nature—and then, feeling very much as Little Jack Horner did after he had partaken of refreshment, I mounted once more the marble stairs and set myself to do the crowned heads.
I set myself literally, for it occurred to me I could do their Majesties just as well sitting as standing. And, as the afternoon was hot, and the sofa near the door was comfortable, and as, moreover, I was slightly oppressed with my study of the costumes downstairs, and considerably soothed by the strains of Madame Tussaud’s orchestra, it so fell out that, just as I was nodding how-do-you-do to William the Conqueror, I dropped asleep.
How long I slept I must leave it to those of my readers who have come through the same exertions of mind and body to guess. I had never intended to exceed a short forty winks, because I was aware that only half an hour was left before the time for closing arrived. But when I awoke it was with a start, to find that the place was silent, dark, and deserted. The music had gone, the shuffling of footsteps on the stairs had ceased, the hum of voices had died away. All was so quiet that my own breathing sounded loud and noisy.
I rubbed my eyes and looked round. Yes, I was on the same seat, but not a soul was left in the place—only I—I and the wax figures.
The lights were out, all except one solitary gas-jet over the door of the Chamber of Horrors, which sent a flickering gleam my way, and danced weirdly in and out among the motionless images around me. It was not a comfortable position to be in, and I confess I did not like it. Of course a wax image in the dark is the same as a wax image in the day. Still, thought I, I would sooner be outside, and—
What was it made me stop short, and sit up in my seat, petrified, and with the blood curdling in my veins?
My eyes, while I meditated, had turned towards William the Conqueror, to whom, as I have already said, I had been in the act of nodding in a friendly way when I dropped asleep.
To my horror, I now perceived that he was, in a most unmistakable manner, nodding at me! Yes, by the feeble light I could see, not only his head move, but even his eyes too! I was helpless and speechless. I could no more move, or call out, or take my eyes off him, than if I had been a wax figure myself.
Presently I saw his hands move slowly to the arms of his chair, and then, keeping his eyes still on me, he rose to his feet. I could hear the clank of the sword against his greaves as he stepped off his platform on to the floor of the hall and advanced a step towards me. Then, as I sat quaking there, I felt his eyes upon mine, and knew that he was staring at me from head to toe.
By a superhuman effort I dug my fingers into the plush of the sofa, and ejaculated a frantic “Oh!”
The cry resounded fearfully through the building, and seemed to wake echoes which certainly had nothing in common with my voice. It was as if every one in the place had suddenly caught sight of me at the same moment and was giving vent to his or her astonishment.
I had better have remained silent! For, as I gave one scared look round, I saw King John lay down his pen, and, rising hastily, walk towards me. He scowled viciously at me, and then, as I collapsed in a heap on to the floor, I saw him turn inquiringly to William the Conqueror.
Whatever the question he asked was, William answered it in the affirmative, whereupon John turned round to the rest of the company, and beckoned with his hand.
Instantly William Rufus, Henry the First, Stephen, Matilda, Henry the Second, and Richard Coeur de Lion, came forward. William the Second turned me over with his foot, and stooped down to look at my face.
“That’s him!” said he.
“That’s he, you mean,” said Henry Beauclerk.
“I mean nothing of the kind,” said Rufus. “I mean him. So now, old lampreys!”
“They were not lampreys,” said Henry sulkily; “they were oysters.”
“Yes, yes,” said Matilda. “But what business has he here?”
“Him?” said Rufus doggedly.
“You’d better ask him,” said Stephen, with a sneer. “The chances are he’ll want to know what business you have here.”
“I’m as much an empress as you,” said Matilda, spitefully.
“I know that; which means you’re no empress at all.”
“Look here,” said Henry the Second, “don’t you cheek me, Steevie. She let you have it pretty hot, you know.”
“Hot? I like that,” said Stephen. “It was cold enough that day she made tracks in the snow. I’ve had rheumatism ever since.”
“By the way,” said Henry the Second, “I can put you up to a capital cure for rheumatism. Tried it myself. It was after that little affair about Beckett, you know. I was a good deal run down; and I got a fellow to touch me up on the shoulder with a cat. You’ve no notion how it picks a fellow up. Quite my own notion, too. Come, and I’ll give you a dose.”
“Don’t mind the governor.” said Richard; “he will have his joke. Did you ever read the Talisman, Tilly?—jolly story!—all about yours truly. You can get it for 4 pence ha’penny. I say, what’s to be done with this chap, Johnny? He’s a little like Arthur of Brittany, isn’t he? Suppose, just to keep your hand in—”
Here John turned very red, and got into a towering rage, and threatened to tear up the Magna Charta to spite them all. Whereat they all laughed.
All this time I lay, bewildered and speechless, on the floor. It was a long time before they could bring their minds to decide what was to be done with me; and, indeed, I began half to hope they had forgotten me in their own squabbles, when a great burly form pushed his way into the group, and asked what all the noise was about.
“As if I haven’t noise enough in my place with all my six wives talking at the same time,” said he, “without your row. What is it? Can’t you settle it and be done?”
William Rufus turned me over again with his foot.
“That thing’s the matter,” said he.
King Hal stooped down, with his hands on his knees, and stared at me. Then he gave a low whistle.
“Whew!” said he. “That’s a catch and a half. Where did you get him?”
“Here, a quarter of an hour ago,” said William the Conqueror. “It was me nobbled him.”
“Not me—I,” said Henry the First.
“You!” exclaimed the Conqueror. “Why, what do you expect if you tell lies like that?”
“I didn’t mean I got him,” explained Henry. “I meant you should say it was I.”
“I shan’t say it was you, when it was me,” said William. “I’m not given to that style of thing, I can tell you.”
“No, no,” began Henry again. “What I mean is, that instead of saying it was me—”
“Who said it was you? I said it was me.”
“Yes, and that’s where you make a mistake. You should say—”
“Look here,” said Henry the Eighth, “suppose you settle that outside. The thing is—whoever nobbled him, as William says—hadn’t we better give him a cold chop, now we’ve got him?”
“Better try him first,” said John. “I make a strong point of that in Magna Charta, you know.”
“Much easier to take the chop first,” said Henry.
“I prefer stakes myself,” said Queen Mary, joining the party.
“Well, well, any way you like,” said King Hal; “anything for a quiet life. The ladies are worrying me to give them a day out, and an Old Bailey trial will be a nice variety for them. Only, let’s have it done in proper state, if we have it at all. I suppose you’d like me to be judge, eh?”
Nobody seemed particularly pleased at this proposal; and Richard said—
“You’d better ask Elizabeth, hadn’t you?”
“Oh, good gracious, no!” exclaimed Henry in alarm. “Don’t say a word about it to her, or there’ll be a terrible rumpus. I assure you I have studied law all my life. Come along. Bring him downstairs and let’s begin. Here, Teddy,” cried he to a nice-looking boy not far off, who must have been Edward the Fifth. “Here, Teddy, run and tell Catherine, and Annie, and Janie, and Annie Cleeves, and Kitty Howard, and Kitty Parr—let’s see, is that all?” said he, counting them over on his fingers; “yes, six—tell ’em all to hurry up, and not to let Elizabeth see them, whatever they do. Oh, and you can tell all the lot of Majesties after Johnny here they’d better come, too. Come, look alive, my lad.”
“All, very well,” said Teddy; “how am I to look alive after the way I’ve been served? Besides, I can never remember all their names.”
“Well, look them up in the catalogue—they’re all down there. Tell them, the big dock downstairs. And if we’re lucky and get the job over in time, I don’t mind standing treat all round in the refreshment-room afterwards. That will fetch them, I fancy; eh, what?”