"The only thing is—people go by so quickly that it's difficult to see if their eyes are odd or not," said Bets.
"I say, Fatty, how are you going to get your face all pink like Napoleon's?" asked Larry looking at Fatty's very brown face.
"Easy," said Fatty. "I shall put a little layer of pink wax all over my face and let it set. I know how to do it. It's in a book I've got."
Fatty had the most extraordinary collection of books. He seemed to be able to find out from them anything he wanted.
"You'll have to do that before you set out, won't you?" said Daisy. Fatty nodded.
"Yes. Larry will have to go with me if the night isn't dark enough to hide me, and warn me if any one is coming who might be likely to spot me. But now that there's no moon, I ought not to be noticed much in the twilight."
"I do want Tuesday to come!" said Bets. "I really can hardly wait! I wish I was going to see you all dressed up as Napoleon, Fatty. You'll look simply grand. Oh, Tuesday, hurry up and come!"
Tuesday Night At Last.
Tuesday night did come at last. For once in a way it was a cloudy night, and it almost looked as if the longed-for rain was coming. It was a little cooler, and every one was thankful.
"How are you going to manage about your father and mother tonight?" asked Pip. "I mean—you want to set off about 7:30, don't you? And that's the time you have dinner with them."
"They're away for a couple of nights," said Fatty. "Bit of luck, that. Larry, you come to dinner with me, and we'll have it at seven, together. Then you can walk down with me to the Hall, to make sure no one will see me."
"Right," said Larry. "I will. Wish I was going to come into the Hall with you, too, and see everything. Will you come back and tell us what's happened, Fatty, even if it's awfully late? I'll keep awake."
"All right. But I'd better not go to Pip's," said Fatty. "Mrs. Hilton is sure to hear me if I call up to Pip. Her room is just nearby."
"Oh, Fatty! We can't possibly wait till the morning! "cried Bets.
"You'll have to," said Fatty. "I can't go round to you all and tell you what's happened. Anyway, you'll be fast asleep, little Bets!"
"I shan't. I shan't sleep a wink all night," said Bets.
The day dragged by very slowly. At half-past six Fatty left Pip's, with Larry, and the two of them went to Fatty's house. They were to have dinner early, at seven—then their adventure would begin. All the children felt excited, but only Fatty did not show it. He appeared to be as calm as ever.
The two boys made a very good meal indeed. Then Fatty put the pink stuff on his face and after that they set out to go down to the river. They meant to take the path over the fields, then go by the water-side, and so come to the Fair without meeting a lot of people.
They arrived at the Waxworks Hall. "How are you going to get in?" whispered Larry, suddenly seeing that the place was shut and in darkness.
"Didn't you spot me undoing the catch of one of the windows when we were here this morning?" whispered Fatty. "I'm going to get in there. I say—what about you coming in too, in case I get into difficulties over dressing? You can easily hop out of the window afterwards."
"Yes, I will," said Larry, pleased at the idea of watching Fatty dress himself as Napoleon. "Where's the window?"
"It's this one," said Fatty, and looked cautiously round. "Anyone about? Not a soul I Here goes, then!"
He opened the window quietly, hauled himself up and dropped down into the hall. Larry followed. The boys shut the window carefully, in case any one noticed that it was open.
The hall wasn't dark, because a lamp from the Fair nearby shone into it, and gave a fint and rather eerie light to the still waxworks.
The boys looked round them. The figures somehow seemed more alive than in .the daytime, and Larry gave a little shiver. Silly fancies crept into his head. Suppose wax figures came alive at night and walked and talked!
What a dreadful shock it would give him and Fatty!
"They all seem to be looking at us," whispered Larry. "They make me feel quite creepy. Look at Nelson—he's watching us all the time!"
"Idiot!" said Fatty, walking over to Napoleon. "Come on—help me to undress him, Larry."
It was a queer business, undressing the rather plump figure of the wax Napoleon. It wasn't easy, either, because Napoleon didn't help in any way! In fact, it almost seemed as if he quite deliberately tried to make things difficult for the two boys!
"If only he'd raise his arms a bit, or give a wriggle, or something," whispered Larry. "We could get his things off easily then. But he just makes himself as stiff as possible!"
Fatty chuckled. "I'd get a shock if he did raise his arms or wriggle!" he said. "I'd just as soon he didn't. There—his coat's off, thank goodness—but I've torn his high collar a bit. Now for his trousers."
Soon poor Napoleon stood stiff and straight in nothing but some kind of shapeless under-garment. The boys lifted him up and carried him to a cupboard. They put him inside and shut the door. Then Fatty proceeded to undress himself very quickly. He stuffed his own clothes into the cupboard with Napoleon.
Then, with Larry's help he put on Napoleon's clothes. They fitted him quite well, and he only had to use one of Daisy's safety-pins. He pulled on the coat, and the medals made a little jingling noise.
"Fatty! You look marvellous in that uniform!" said Larry, in admiration. "You honestly do! Now the hat—golly, it fits you as if it was made for you!"
Fatty made Larry hold up a small mirror and looked at face in it. It was all covered with pink, and looked very like the faces of the wax figures around. Fatty pulled a strand of hair on to his forehead, just like the one the wax Napoleon had had. Then he put his hand under his coat, stood absolutely still and stiff, and stared straight in front of him.
Larry couldn't find enough words of praise. "Nobody, nobody could possibly guess you weren't a wax figure!" he said. "You're marvellous, Fatty! Honestly, you're more of a wax figure than Napoleon was before! I wish you could see yourself, I really do. Golly, it's wonderful!"
Fatty was pleased. He beamed modestly at Larry, but not too broadly in case the wax on his face cracked a bit.
"It's only your eyes that are different from the other wax figures," said Larry. "They've got a proper light in them—the others haven't. Yours shine."
"Well, I hope they won't shine too much!" said Fatty. "Now, you'd better go, Larry, old boy. It's about half-past eight, isn't it? The men might be here early."
"Right," said Larry—and then he suddenly stood stock-still in fright. It sounded as if some one was fumbling at the door of the hall!
"Go, quickly!" said Fatty, in a whisper, and Larry fled, threading his way carefully between the silent figures till he came to the window at the back of the hall. He opened it cautiously, climbed up and dropped out, shutting it again at once. He dived under a bush and sat there, hardly daring to breathe, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.
He pictured the gang walking in silently, and he felt glad he was not Fatty, all alone there, hidden in the rows of waxwork figures. Golly, he'd only got out just in time!
Fatty was waiting in the greatest excitement for the hall door to open. Who would come in? The leader of the gang? All the men? Would he know any of them?
The fumbling at the door went on. Somebody seemed to be having difficulty with the key. But at last it turned and the door opened quietly. Somebody stepped in, and shut the door—and locked it! Why lock it? Fatty was puzzled. Weren't the others coming in too, then?
The silent-footed person moved down the hall, and the light from the Fair lamp outside shone down on him. Fatty got a most tremendous shock.