“No, I guess not, until I get ready to pull the strings. Then you can give me a hand. We’ll have to do it after dark, and be mighty careful not to be caught, though.”
“But how are you going to get the suit?”
“I have a plan. Watch your Uncle Dudley.”
Sid spent the rest of the afternoon in making up a bundle to look like one that contained two suits just from the tailor shop. Only, in place of clothes he used old newspapers. It was toward dusk when he went out with it under his arm.
“It’s about time Wallops was coming back,” he said to Tom. “I’ll meet him in the clump of elms, where it’s good and dark, and he can’t tell who I am.”
“Be careful,” warned his roommate.
“Sure. But I know what I’m about. Revenge is sweet! Wow! Wait until you see the face of Pitchfork!”
Sid stole carefully along to a spot near the edge of the river, where a clump of big elm trees grew. This was near the bridge on the road to Haddonfield. The spot was lonely and deserted enough at this hour to suit his purpose, and the dusk of the evening, being added to by clouds, and by the shadows of the trees, made concealment easy.
“I guess that’s Wallops,” murmured Sid as he peered out from behind a tree. “That walks like Wallops, and he’s got a bundle under his arm. Now for a grand transformation scene.”