"Why," said Torry, pinching his chin between thumb and forefinger, "I might do that if he had not been disguised."
"Disguised?"
"Yes; the red hair is a wig, the red beard is false. The deceased is a gentleman of some age nearer sixty than fifty. He has a plump face and a bald head with a fringe of white hair--something like me," said Mr. Torry in parenthesis, "only my hair is brown. The man is clean-shaven and has several teeth stopped with gold."
"You think he is--or rather was--a gentleman?"
"I'm sure of it. His hands and feet are carefully attended to, and his linen is beyond reproach."
"Ha! His linen. Is there no mark on it?"
"There is. He changed his outward garments, but not his linen or socks--which shows that he was an amateur in disguising himself. A man who was in the habit of masquerading for evil purposes would have changed from top to toe. But this poor creature, not expecting to be murdered, never thought it was necessary to change anything but his outward aspect."
"Is there a name on his shirt, then?"
"No; there are initials. On his shirt, his undershirt, his pants, and on his socks are two letters, 'J.G.'"
"The initials of his name."