“Hollo! Hollo! Here’s a rum go! Why, Captain!--my Lord!---here’s the devil to pay! The fellow’s been cut down and taken away! What’s to be done? We’ve missed all the fun!” What _was_ to be done? The man was dead! Nought _could_ be done--nought could be said; So--my Lord Tomnoddy went home to bed! Referring back to the days before the advent of the daily illustrated papers with their portraits of all kinds of people, a very affecting story was once told by a well-known author. It related to a very pretty and plaintive young woman who visited the Chamber of Horrors early on the morning that a certain criminal with many _aliases_ was executed. She was accompanied by her father, who, with his arm about her waist to steady her faltering steps, led her up to where the figure of the murderer stood. The poor woman remained gazing at it as though fascinated; then, with a nod, she burst out crying and buried her head in her hands. Her father gently drew her out of the place, and as he did so whispered in her ear, “Free, my child; free at last!” How the author came to hear of the incident we do not know, or was it one of those coincidences that somehow do occur? CHAPTER XLIII “The Chamber of Horrors Rumour”--_No reward has been, or will be, offered_--The constable’s escapade--A nocturnal experience--Dumas’s comedy of the Chamber--Yeomen of the Halter. We have speculated much upon the origin of what has come to be called “The Chamber of Horrors Rumour,” relating to a popular delusion that Madame Tussaud’s will pay a sum of money to any person who spends a night alone with the criminals assembled therein. It need hardly be pointed out that no such ridiculous challenge was ever issued to the public, although the rumour has run for nearly twenty years, in spite of repeated contradictions. I am not even hopeful that what I am writing now will produce the desired result of disabusing adventurous minds of this impression; in fact, denials on our part appear rather to have tended to give wider currency to the rumour. Thousands of letters have been received from volunteers of both sexes eager and anxious to undertake the ordeal for rewards which vary, in their imaginations, from £5 to £5,000. Among the aspirants have been soldiers, sailors, ex-policemen, and even domestic servants, all of whom insisted that their nerves were equal to the task. Only the other day I received a letter from a Scotsman who intimated his willingness to forgo any pecuniary reward if only we would furnish him with a bottle of whisky and some sandwiches with which to regale himself as he sat at the feet of Burke and Hare.