"If the man I'm with is the one who wore the disguise, if he looks more like it than Mr. Withers did, make no sign. If he's not the fellow communicate with me later—as soon as you can."
Morley was the first person Braceway saw when he entered the lobby of the hotel. He lost no time, but crossed over to the leather settee on which the young man sat. Morley looked haggard and frightened, and, although he held a newspaper in front of him, was gazing into space.
Braceway decided to "take a chance." He had a great respect for his intuitions. These "hunches," he had found, were sometimes of no value, but they had helped him often enough to make the ideas that came to him in this way worth trying. He introduced himself.
"I was wondering," he said, sitting down beside Morley, "if you couldn't help me out in a little matter."
Morley sighed and put down his paper before he answered:
"What is it?"
"Something about make-ups—facial make-up."
Morley looked at him and felt that the detective's eyes bored into him.
"What about make-up?"
"I had the idea—perhaps I got it from George Withers—that you used to be interested in a matter of theatricals."