think my own will do, if I smarm it down a bit, and pull a few pieces out in front, l ike old Napoleon has got. An er— I don't know what you think — but — er — I'm not really unlike Napoleon in features, am I?"
The others stared at him. "Well," said Pip honestly, "I can't see any likeness at all. Not the slightest."
"Except that you're both fat," said Daisy.
"Do you want to look like Napoleon?" said Bets in surprise. "I don't think he looks very nice, really. And I don't like those men that go about thinking they want to conquer the whole world. Napoleon must have been very brainy, of course, and you're brainy, Fatty. But, except that you're fat and brainy, I don't see that you're very like Napoleon."
Fatty gave it up. He stared once more at the figure of Napoleon, in its grand uniform, cocked hat, medals, epaulettes, and stars. It was a fine uniform and Fatty was longing to get into it. Well, he hadn't got long to wait now.
He tried to memorize exactly at what angle Napoleon wore his hat, exactly how he held his hands, exactly how he stared so blankly in front of him. Napoleon fortunately stood in the very front row of figures, so Fatty, as Napoleon, would be able to hear and see everything very well indeed. A little shiver went down his back when he thought of standing there, perfectly still,
listening to the plans of the gang, and memorizing their appearance.
It was a very bold idea indeed. Not one of the other Find-Outers would have dared to do it. But Fatty, of course, would dare anything. Bets thought that he wouldn't even turn a hair if he met a roaring lion, the kind she met in her bad dreams, and which scared her terribly. Fatty would (probably speak to it kindly and pat it, and the lion would lie down and roll over for Fatty to tickle it on its tummy — like Buster did !
The red-headed boy, curious at their sudden intense interest in Napoleon, came over and joined them.
"What's exciting about Wm?" he said. "Who is he? Oh — Napoleon. What was he? Some sort of soldier? "
"Don't you kn o w ?” said Bets, in astonishment. "Didn't you learn history at school?"
"I've never been to school," said the red-headed boy. "I belong to the Fair, and us kids hardly ever go to school unless we have to. We move about from place to place, you see, and before we're popped into some school, we've moved on again. I can read, but I can't write."
"Why are you in the Waxwork Show?" asked Fatty. "Does this hall belong to the Fair people?"
"Oh no — they've only hired it," said the boy. "The Waxworks belong to my uncle. He's the fellow that runs the Hoopla. I used to help him with that, but now I have to do the Waxworks, and it's jolly dull."
Fatty wondered if any of the Fair people were in the gang of thieves. It seemed very likely. Well, he would know on Tuesday night.
The children went and studied other figures carefully too, so that the red-headed boy wouldn't get suspicious
about their sudden interest in Napoleon. They had a good look at the wax figure of the policeman as well. He really did look a bit like Mr. Goon! There he stood, on the second step, not far from Napoleon, his helmet on perfectly straight, the strap round the chin, and the belt a little tight.
The red-headed boy disappeared out-of-doors for a minute. Fatty at once went back to Napoleon and studied the clothes well, to make sure that he could take them off the wax figure fairly easily.
"Hope they're not stuck on in any way," he said to the others anxiously. Daisy pulled at them.
"Oh no," she said. "They are put on just like ours — and look, the trousers are held by braces. You'll be all right, Fatty. But you'll have to be here long before nine, or you'll never have time to undress yourself and Napoleon and then dress yourself up again."
"I wish you wouldn't, really, Fatty," said Bets, looking up at him with scared eyes. "I shall hate to think of you standing so near the gang — whatever would they do to you if they discovered you ?
The others stared at him. "Well," said Pip honestly, "I can't see any likeness at all. Not the slightest."
"Except that you're both fat," said Daisy.
"Do you want to look like Napoleon?" said Bets in surprise. "I don't think he looks very nice, really. And I don't like those men that go about thinking they want to conquer the whole world. Napoleon must have been very brainy, of course, and you're brainy, Fatty. But, except that you're fat and brainy, I don't see that you're very like Napoleon."
Fatty gave it up. He stared once more at the figure of Napoleon, in its grand uniform, cocked hat, medals, epaulettes, and stars. It was a fine uniform and Fatty was longing to get into it. Well, he hadn't got long to wait now.
He tried to memorize exactly at what angle Napoleon wore his hat, exactly how he held his hands, exactly how he stared so blankly in front of him. Napoleon fortunately stood in the very front row of figures, so Fatty, as Napoleon, would be able to hear and see everything very well indeed. A little shiver went down his back when he thought of standing there, perfectly still,
listening to the plans of the gang, and memorizing their appearance.
It was a very bold idea indeed. Not one of the other Find-Outers would have dared to do it. But Fatty, of course, would dare anything. Bets thought that he wouldn't even turn a hair if he met a roaring lion, the kind she met in her bad dreams, and which scared her terribly. Fatty would (probably speak to it kindly and pat it, and the lion would lie down and roll over for Fatty to tickle it on its tummy — like Buster did !
The red-headed boy, curious at their sudden intense interest in Napoleon, came over and joined them.
"What's exciting about Wm?" he said. "Who is he? Oh — Napoleon. What was he? Some sort of soldier? "
"Don't you kn o w ?” said Bets, in astonishment. "Didn't you learn history at school?"
"I've never been to school," said the red-headed boy. "I belong to the Fair, and us kids hardly ever go to school unless we have to. We move about from place to place, you see, and before we're popped into some school, we've moved on again. I can read, but I can't write."
"Why are you in the Waxwork Show?" asked Fatty. "Does this hall belong to the Fair people?"
"Oh no — they've only hired it," said the boy. "The Waxworks belong to my uncle. He's the fellow that runs the Hoopla. I used to help him with that, but now I have to do the Waxworks, and it's jolly dull."
Fatty wondered if any of the Fair people were in the gang of thieves. It seemed very likely. Well, he would know on Tuesday night.
The children went and studied other figures carefully too, so that the red-headed boy wouldn't get suspicious
about their sudden interest in Napoleon. They had a good look at the wax figure of the policeman as well. He really did look a bit like Mr. Goon! There he stood, on the second step, not far from Napoleon, his helmet on perfectly straight, the strap round the chin, and the belt a little tight.
The red-headed boy disappeared out-of-doors for a minute. Fatty at once went back to Napoleon and studied the clothes well, to make sure that he could take them off the wax figure fairly easily.
"Hope they're not stuck on in any way," he said to the others anxiously. Daisy pulled at them.
"Oh no," she said. "They are put on just like ours — and look, the trousers are held by braces. You'll be all right, Fatty. But you'll have to be here long before nine, or you'll never have time to undress yourself and Napoleon and then dress yourself up again."
"I wish you wouldn't, really, Fatty," said Bets, looking up at him with scared eyes. "I shall hate to think of you standing so near the gang — whatever would they do to you if they discovered you ?
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