As soon as he was gone I attired myself in the battered old suit of brown which he had provided, and clapped a greasy cap upon my head. Then I surveyed myself in the mirror and turned away disappointedly. I was disreputable enough in all conscience, but no one would have taken me for anyone else but Carlton Davies, grown somewhat seedy in appearance. How did McKelvie do it?
In the library I found McKelvie talking to Jenkins, the latter clad in bathrobe and slippers, as though he had just been dragged from his room.
"Ready?" asked McKelvie, as I entered, and when I nodded he turned again to Jenkins. "Stay out in the hall beside the phone and don't go to sleep. If I do not phone you by one o'clock, call Headquarters and tell them to rush some men to Hi Ling's curio shop. You understand?"
"Yes, sir," answered Jenkins, blinking.
"Don't fall asleep, as it may mean our lives," repeated McKelvie impressively.
"No, sir. I'll stay awake. You can depend on me, sir," said Jenkins in a hurt tone.
"Yes, I know I can," returned McKelvie. "Come on, Mr. Davies."
McKelvie swung toward me and then began to laugh. "You're far too clean. They'd spot you for a fake in a moment."
He took what looked like a box of lampblack from his pocket and applied it to my face. As we hurried down the hall I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My face was a dirty gray, sallow, unshaved. I smiled as I followed McKelvie into the outer hall.
"Ever read Gaboriau?" he asked as we crept stealthily down the stairs.