"One?"
Barkswell raised his head and glared at the speaker in evident amazement.
"Yes, one—myself."
"I deny it."
"I think I can convince you."
With the words, the peddler's hand went to his head, a few passes were made, and the man stood transformed. It was a complete metamorphosis.
On the ground lay red wig and black patch.
An exclamation fell from many lips. Andrew Barkswell uttered a great cry.
"Great heavens! it is Silas Keene, the detective!"
It was true.