“Wonder if he’s in there now,” whispered Fudge.
“Probably,” replied Perry uneasily. The hall was silent and shadows lurked in the corners. From the floor below came the faint ticking of a typewriter, but that was all the sound that reached them until an automobile horn screeched outside. Perry jumped nervously.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s beat it. He might come out and——”
At that moment footsteps sounded on the lower flight. Perry tugged at Fudge’s arm. “Come on, can’t you?” he urged. But Fudge was listening intently to the approaching steps. The person, whoever he was, tramped along the hall below and began the ascent of the next flight. Perry looked about for concealment. A few yards away a half-open door showed an empty and dusty interior. Perry slid through and Fudge followed, closing the door softly all but a few inches. The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and approached along the corridor, passed and kept on toward the back of the building. Cautiously the two boys peered out. It was the cowboy-pianist. He paused at the last portal, produced a key, inserted it in the lock and opened the door. And as he passed from sight he raised a hand and removed the luxuriant brown mustache from his upper lip!
CHAPTER VII
FUDGE REVOLTS
The boys crept quietly down the stairs and out into the street. It was not until they had turned the corner that Fudge broke the silence.
“What do you know about that?” he murmured awedly.
“Looks as though you were right,” returned Perry admiringly. “He was disguised, all right.”
“I—I’ve got to think this over,” said Fudge. He was plainly bewildered. They paused at Perry’s gate and he declined an invitation to enter, with a shake of his head. “I guess,” he muttered, “there’s more in this than I thought. You saw him take it off, didn’t you?”