"I couldn't foller him inside, so I waits acrost the street. He come out in half an hour. Say, I almost missed him then. He's a rapid change artist for fair! Had a big trust on him now——"
"Trust?" interrupted Jack.
"You know, corporation, bow-window——" Tommy illustrated.
"I see, go on."
"But he looked twenty years younger. Real black hair now, little black moustache, white face—like a dude Eyetalian. Had a neat derby on, and black overcoat."
"Good God!" cried Jack. "Comrade Wilde! You're sure it was the same man."
"Certain sure! But it was a peach of a make-up. I wouldn't of got on to it, only he didn't walk like a fat man. He didn't lean back far enough to balance his load if it was bona-fide."
"Pretty good!" said Jack. "I never thought of that."
"Well, I took after him again, but he give me the slip at Sixth Avenue. There was a car waiting for him there—big black limousine——"
"I know it!" said Jack ruefully.