“What is it?” asked Merriwell. “Sherlock Holmes?”
“Old Sleuth,” suggested Gerald. “How did you cut your lip, Duke?”
Without replying The Duke leaned down and pressed an ear against the keyhole. Then, apparently satisfied, he unlocked the door and dramatically removed hat and mustache.
“Aha!” he exclaimed hoarsely; “foiled again!”
“Bet you he will be along inside five minutes,” laughed Gerald. “Sit on the bed, Duke, and try to look like a pillow. Maybe he won’t recognize you.”
The Duke followed the first part of the suggestion, but refused to disguise himself as a pillow, even when Simms suggested that that shouldn’t be a difficult stunt for anyone as feather-brained as The Duke.
“Don’t trifle with me,” hissed The Duke. “I’m a der-esperate man!”
“Where’d you get the red mustache?” asked Girard. “Let’s see it.”
“Bought in the village,” replied The Duke as he tossed it over. “It makes a perfect disguise, doesn’t it? I’m going to wear it to history recitation to-morrow so Collins won’t know me and won’t ask for my digest, which I have forgotten to prepare.”