“I won’t bet, you know,” laughed Dick, “but I don’t mind trying it. Tell you what I’ll do—I’ll experiment on Maggie Swazey. She’s a good subject, isn’t she?”
They agreed that Maggie, the maid of all work in the rooming house, was acceptable.
“How are you going to experiment on her, partner?” questioned Buckhart.
After a moment’s thought Dick unfolded his plan.
“I know where to get a policeman’s uniform that will fit me unless those fellows who robbed Steiger’s place got away with the outfit. I’ll rig up as an Irish cop this evening, and I’ll stroll around here and call on Maggie shortly after eight o’clock. Tell you what I’ll do, fellows—I’ll make love to Maggie. That ought to be a satisfactory test. If I can fool her to that extent, I ought to be able to fool any one.”
“Truly thou art taking thy life in thy lily-white hands,” said Blessed. “If Maggie ever tumbles to the trick, she’ll split your skull.”
“Oh, say, that ought to be a circus!” shouted Tucker hilariously. “I’d give anything if I could see the sport.”
“Can’t you find a way to see it?”
“I’d like to be in it, too,” grinned Bigelow. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“Miss it?” said Buckhart. “You bet your boots I don’t propose to miss it!”