"You was meant t' be a Missin' Link.

Y'iv got all th' natural gifts, an' with th' proper hide drawn on over yeh, an' yer face made up a bit, nobody ud ever think you was anythink else but a true African Missin' Link, born an' bred." "Are you quite sure the Missing Link has nothing else to do ?" asked Nickie, cautiously.
"Positive, Missin' Links is scarce; they has pretty much their own way.
Hold on--he's gotter 'ang a bit by one hand from a bar what goes through his cage, an' pretent to be sleepin'." Nickie the Kid had a contemplative expression "Bless my soul," he said, "there are strange ways of earning a living, and I'm not sure that my way is the easiest after all." He drained the bottle.
Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels was established in a shop in Bourke Street, Melbourne.

The shop window was curtained with large posters, one representing a tall man, very thin even for a skeleton, sitting at a table, tying knots in his limbs.

The other pictured a strange, hairy monster, half human, half monkey, which was labelled "Darwin's Missing Link." On a kerosene case at the door stood Professor Thunder himself, appealing to the populace to pause and contemplate the "astonishin' marvellous pictorial representations," and assuring five small boys that these were "living, speaking likenesses" of the wonders within.

"No deception, ladies and gents, no deception!" he cried.
Professor Thunder was his own "spruicher;" his eloquence was remarkable, his voice had the carrying power of a steam whistle, and the penetrating qualities of a circular saw.