“Yes: he was so struck with the bigness of the pile that he never stopped to look at them particularly—he feels dead sure they’re all straight.”
“You didn’t find out where his place is?”
“Ah, no, I’m to meet him at the Astor House at 5, and he’s to take me there.”
“I know all that,” I answered hurriedly. “Off with your clothes, old man.”
“Not here, Dave,” he says.
“Yes, here. We’ll change a piece at a time. Must do it. All would be spoiled if we were to be seen together.”
It was ticklish changing, but we got through with it splendid.
There was a glass in the place, and when I looked at myself I declare I could hardly believe it wasn’t Sam in his disguise what was standing there, but of course Sam hadn’t red hair, so he didn’t look much like me.
I didn’t want that, though—didn’t expect it. ’Twasn’t part of the game.
“Lay low now, young feller,” says I, “and don’t let ’em see you. If there’s any sign of a row you just sail right in.”