Mrs. Rebson was not of much use, and she wept most of the time, so Clarice set her to work to re-pack the Gladstone bag. In it was stowed a tweed suit, since Clarice was rapidly assuming a spare evening dress of Ferdy's. Also he had left behind him, luckily, a fur-lined coat, and Clarice had purchased in the High Street a silk hat, ostensibly for her brother, but really for her masquerade. Ferdy was very extravagant in the matter of clothes, and no doubt much of the squandered two thousand pounds had gone on his wardrobe, so that the girl was easily able to array herself in the evening purple and fine linen of a young man about town.
When she was dressed--when the fur coat was on, when the silk hat was worn, and when Clarice placed a cigarette in her mouth--even Mrs. Rebson was startled, and stared, open-mouthed, at the change. "Oh, deary, mercy me," cried Mrs. Rebson, raising her hands, "I really should take you for Master Ferdy, my dear."
"Rippin' old Nanny," said Clarice, with so exact an imitation of her brother's voice that Mrs. Rebson jumped.
"It's not right--it really ain't right," she blubbered. "You might be my darling boy from the looks of you and the voice of you."
"That's as it should be. Now, Nanny, kiss me, and wish me God speed."
"Never," said Mrs. Rebson, energetically, "when you're doing exactly what Moses said you shouldn't do, and wearing man's clothes."
"To save Ferdy, Nanny," murmured Clarice, and, gained the kiss and the blessing. Then, the servants being at their tea, she slipped down with the Gladstone bag in her hand, and went out by the French window of the drawing-room. Mrs. Rebson, at the bedroom window, saw her disappear up the lane.
"It might be Master Ferdy himself," said Mrs. Rebson, with a heavy heart, and prepared to carry out her part of the deception.
There was, as Clarice had anticipated, a crowd at the station, as it was market day in Crumel, and many sellers and buyers were leaving by the 6.30 train. Slipping unnoticed through the crowd, she obtained her ticket from a clerk too busy to glance up, and got into an empty first-class smoking carriage. She did not like the atmosphere, as her sense of smell was delicate, but it was necessary to keep up the deception of manliness, and, moreover, in a smoker she was not likely to meet with any local women friends, who might penetrate her disguise. Also Clarice smoked herself a little, having first done so out of bravado, because Anthony had laughed at her early attempt. She, therefore, lighted a cigarette, and tried to feel herself a man. What she did feel was undoubtedly a delightful sense of freedom, and regretted again, as she had often regretted before, that she had not been born with a beard. Nature had undoubtedly made a mistake in creating Clarice a woman. Perhaps owing to the similarity of the twin's looks, she had confused the souls, and had given to Clarice the body which was truly Ferdy's.
In due time the young gentleman--Clarice felt herself to be truly a young gentleman--arrived at Liverpool Street Station, and hailed a cab. She told the man to drive to a quiet West End hotel, where Ferdy sometimes stopped, when it was too late to return home to his quarters in Dr. Jerce's Harley Street house. Here Clarice was quite delighted with the result of her masquerade. Everyone, including the landlord, the barmaid, and the waiters, took her for Ferdy, and she was given the dinner table at which Ferdy usually sat. And from the smirk of the barmaid, who inquired if Mr. Baird would take a glass of sherry before dinner, Clarice gathered some information as to Ferdy's urban habits.