WAX (A British Crime Thriller). Ethel Lina White

      CHAPTER I. INTRUSION

       Table of Contents

      As the Town Hall clock struck two, the porter of the Riverpool Waxwork Gallery stirred uneasily in bed.

      "What's the matter, Ames?" asked his wife sleepily.

      "Nothing," was the reply. "Only, I remember taking a candle with me into the Horrors, and I can't rightly say as I took it out again."

      Instantly there was an upheaval under the quilt, followed by an eruption of blankets. Then an elephantine hump, silhouetted on the reflected light of the wall, told Ames that his wife was sitting up in bed.

      "That Gallery's our bread," she declared. "Besides, think of my poor figures trapped in a fire. You get up, Ames, and make sure the candle's out."

      "Oh, I doubted it. I remember. Lay down again."

      But Mrs. Ames had surged out of bed and was slipping into her shoes. Having achieved his object, her husband drew the blanket over his head. Salving his conscience by repeating, "I doubted it," he went to sleep again.

      With her tweed coat buttoned over her nightdress, and her hat, adorned with an eye veil, perched on top of her curlers, Mrs. Ames went out into the night. She was not nervous of the darkness, while the Gallery was only the length of a short street away.

      Directly she turned the key in the great lock and pushed open the massive mahogany doors, she felt that she was really at home. She had brought her pocket-torch, for she knew that if she switched on the light, a policeman might notice the illumination and feel it his duty to investigate. And, as she was one of those free and fearless souls who strew the grass of public parks with chocolate paper and cigarette stumps, she had an instinctive distrust of the law.

      She entered the Gallery, and then stood

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