‘Be careful, Crippen – and all you others,’ he said. ‘If I do catch you moving, I’m going to break your arms and legs off. Do you hear?’
‘I can leave now,’ he thought. ‘I’ve got a lot to write about. A good story – ten good stories! The Morning Times isn’t going to know how long I stayed here. They aren’t interested. But the watchman is going to laugh if he sees me leaving so early. And then there’s the money from Marriner – I don’t want to lose that.’
But this was too hard. It was bad that the waxworks moved behind your back. But it was worse that they could breathe, or was it just his breathing, seeming to come from far away? These figures seemed to be doing what children do in a lesson: talking, laughing and playing when the person giving the lesson turns his back.
‘There I go again,’ he thought. ‘I must think about other things. I’m Raymond Hewson. I live and breathe. These figures round me aren’t living. They can’t move and speak as I can. They’re only made of wax. They just stand there for old ladies and little boys too look at.’
