Or the people might have come upon the Missing Link in heated debate with the Living Skeleton, or in the hearty enjoyment of a long beer, or possibly reading a sentimental novel.
Nickie bared the long tusks of his mask in a malignant grin, but did not stir.

He couldn't be expected to waste his arts and graces on a common drunk.
The man rattled the bars of the cage again.

"'Ello! 'Ello!" he cried, "shake yourself up! Le's see what yer made of.

Get goin'.

Give us a specimen of yer arts." The Missing Link yawned hideously, stretching his long hairy limbs, and blinked his little eyes at the visitor.
"Tha's not so bad," growled the man.