He wilted under the blow. Uncle Isaac! He was in a hopeless position.
“How shall I recognise him—this Double Dan—when he comes? When do you expect him?”
Whatever happened, Double Dan’s scheme should be brought to failure, he decided.
“Why, Dan sort of happens naturally,” she said lazily. “I lift my tile to him every time. He is certainly the most artistic guy in the business. I can’t let my feelings prejudice me. He a great artist. The Lord didn’t give him any ideas about simple division, but we’re not all born mathematicians. You’ll not know him when he comes. He doesn’t always pretend to be the sucker he’s robbing. Sometimes he’s a butler.”
Gordon started. Superbus! Yet it seemed impossible that a man could sink so low that he would impersonate the Roman.
“You mean—our stout friend the detective?”
“Well, I’ve known him before to make up like a detective who’s watching for him, and, what’s more, get away with it. It’s one of Dan’s favourite disguises, and he’s got others. I’m giving you a million dollars’ worth of information, Man. You ought to thank me on your knees, but you won’t. Another good one of his is to be a visiting clergyman—that’s one of his best. He told me once that he’d made a quarter of a million dollars out of the church.”
“A minister—there’s been one here to-day,” said Gordon thoughtfully. “Why don’t you turn King’s evidence against him?”
“State’s evidence, I guess that means? No, sir. That means nothing to me, and you’re insulting me by suggesting it. This is a private matter between D. D. and H. C.—Chowster is my name—my father was a Reverend Chowster of Minneapolis and I’m a high-school girl and don’t forget it. Anyway, I’m just too much of a lady to start makin’ entries in the squeal book. Birth and education count for something, Man.”
He covered his face with his hands.