“‘A little patience,’ answered the other.
“‘What does he say?’ was the general query.
“‘Oh, it’s a part of his performance, ladies and gentleman. You see, Madame Tussaud is not satisfied with merely exhibiting the guillotine. She wishes to show you how it is actually worked.’
“This statement was greeted with general applause by everybody except the victim, who continued entreating to be released, whilst the impromptu lecturer calmly explained to the audience the practical working of the death-dealing machine.
“‘Bravo! How well he acts!’ was the verdict, as the prisoner appealed frantically in a language which none else but the attendant understood.
“Finally, on being at last released, he fainted. They brought him round with smelling-salts and cold water, and the first thing he did was to feel if his head was still safe. Satisfied on this point, he fled, without stopping to find his hat, and lost not an instant in starting at once for Paris.”
I come now, by a sudden transition, to write of three notable shrieval servants whose occupation, however indispensable, was unsavoury.
Calcraft, the first to be styled the “Yeoman of the Halter,” I had not the “pleasure” of knowing.
We have the original signboard he used to exhibit outside his house. It is a framed piece of wood, about three feet by two feet, and it bears in black letters the following notice: