s. Mr. Crook is an observer of what I may call people's
points, sir, their facial appearance, their little peculiarities
of manner, of speech, of gait. Whenever there is any question of
a disguise, Mr. Crook is called in to advise as to the
possibilities of success. I believe I am correct in saying,
Crook, that you have been engaged on the Major here for some
time. Isn't it so?"

Crook looked up a minute from his table.

"That's right," he said shortly, and resumed his occupation of
examining the photographs.

"And what's your opinion about this disguise of mine?" Desmond
asked him.

"I can make a good job of you, Major," said the expert, "and so I
reported to the Chief. You'll want to do your hair a bit
different and let your beard grow, and then, if you pay attention
to the lessons I shall give you, in a week or two, you'll be this
chap here," and he tapped the photograph in his hand, "to the
life."

So saying he handed Desmond the photograph. It was the portrait
of a man about forty years of age, of rather a pronounced
Continental type, with a short brown beard, a straight, rather
well-shaped nose and gold-rimmed spectacles. His hair was cut en
brosse, and he was rather full about the throat and neck. Without
a word, Desmond stretched out his hand and gathered up a sheaf of
other photos, police photos of Mr. Basil Bellward, front face and
profile seen from right and left, all these poses shown on the
same picture, some snapshots and various camera studies. Desmond
shook his head in despair. He was utterly unable to detect the
slightest resemblance between himself and this rather commonplace
looking type of business man.

"Now if you'd just step into the compartment at the end of the
Pullman, Major," said Crook, "you'll find some civilian clothes
laid out. Would you mind putting them on? You needn't trouble
about the collar and tie, or coat and waistcoat for the moment.
Then we'll get along with the work."

The train rushed swaying on through the darkness. Desmond was
back in the Pullman car in a few minutes arrayed in a pair of
dark gray tweed trousers, a white shirt and black boots and
socks. A cut-away coat and waistcoat of the same tweed stuff, a
black bowler hat of rather an old-fashioned and staid pattern,
and a black overcoat with a velvet collar, he left in the
compartment where he changed.

He found that Crook had opened his tin box and set out a great
array of grease paints, wigs, twists of tow