“You saw the clothes I put up?” he asked.
“Certainly.”
“Well, if you see me in that rig, follow on, wherever I go. Perhaps you would better get on your messenger rig. You can go anywhere in that, in the part of the city where I am going.”
Patsy hastened away to prepare his change of apparel. Nick regarded his own disguise ruefully. It was without doubt necessary in this case, but he disliked to go about in the guise of another man. He preferred to win his cases by reasoning them out rather than by cheap detective methods.
As soon as Patsy was ready, Nick took up his bundle with a sigh, and the two made their way to the Cumberland, Patsy following along on the opposite side of the street.
“Step into the corridor and note the room I am shown to,” said Nick, waiting for the seeming messenger to come up with him at the entrance to the hotel. “After I have been in there a minute, tell the clerk you have a message for the man in that room. Come in armed and ready for a scrap.”
“A scrap at the Cumberland?” echoed Patsy.
“We can’t tell what will happen,” replied Nick.
It was now growing dark, and when Nick entered the room where Chick awaited him, the gas was burning dimly.
In a moment the detective had his clothes off and was dressing himself in the ones brought from his office. As the work progressed, Patsy knocked at the door, and was admitted.