“Haven’t you any of your amateur theatrical duds here?” was the outcome of his cogitations.
“All of ’em.”
“Why not dress a part and walk away incognito?”
“Oh, certainly!” assented the other with bitterness. “Put on a suit of tights and dive out of the conservatory window disguised as Annette Kellerman, I suppose.”
“What’s the matter with an old man makeup and the front door?”
“Just this. Friend Murphy on watch hauls out his little paper and on the chance of its being me, slaps the wrist of anybody who appears on those steps. He’ll do it to you when you go out.”
“He didn’t when I came in.”
“No, he wouldn’t, coming in.”
“Then why not fool him by coming in?”
“How the devil can I come in without going out?” demanded Mr. Remsen crossly, for confinement was beginning to tell upon his equable disposition.