“Get out! And Sherlock Holmes is only a fellow in a book, anyway!”
“That doesn’t make any difference. He was the best ever. And I’m he.”
“All right. We’ll see who discovers the secret and nabs the criminal,” said Chub. “That’s the real test. You ought to engage Sid as Doctor Watson; you know Holmes always had to have Watson around to run his errands and all that.”
“That’s all right; Doctor Watson didn’t do any of the real detecting; he was just a sort of a substitute, and sat on the bench. What we ought to do, Chub, is to disguise ourselves; every detective uses a disguise.”
“That’s so, but we haven’t got any,” laughed Chub. “Supposing, though, we turn our sweaters inside out?”
During supper Dick was watched every moment. Every time he put his fork to his mouth Chub scowled knowingly; every time he took a drink of milk Roy looked meaningly at Chub; and when Dick called for a second helping of cold meat the two detectives smiled triumphantly. When Dick came out of the dining-hall Roy and Chub were standing near-by, apparently deeply engrossed in conversation. Chub saw him coming.
“Don’t let him suspect,” he whispered hoarsely.
With amazing effrontery Dick joined them.