nce in some amateur theatricals," I answered "and then the
moustache came off."

"They will make a great difference in your appearance by themselves,"
he went on, looking at me critically. "I wonder how long they will
take to grow."

I passed my hand up my face, which was already covered with a thick
stubble about half an inch in length. "At the present rate of
progress," I said, "I should think about a week."

McMurtrie smiled. "Another fortnight on top of that will be nearer the
mark, I expect," he said, getting up from the bed. "That will just fit
in with our arrangements. In three weeks we ought to be able to fix
you up with what you want, and by that time there won't be quite so
much excitement about your escape. The _Daily Mail_ will have become
tired of you, even if the police haven't." He stopped to flick the ash
off his cigarette. "Of course you will have to be extremely careful
when you are in London. I shall change your appearance so that it
will be quite impossible for any one to recognize you, but there will
always be the danger of somebody remembering your voice."

"I can disguise that to a certain extent," I said. "Besides, it's not
likely that I shall run across any one I know well. I only want to
amuse myself for two or three evenings, and the West End's a large
place as far as amusement goes." Then I paused. "If you really thought
it was too risky," I added carelessly, "I would give up the idea."

It was a bold stroke--but it met with the success that it deserved.
Any lingering doubts McMurtrie may have had about my intentions were
apparently dispersed.

"I think you will work all the better for a short holiday," he said;
"and I am sure you are sensible enough to keep out of any trouble."

He walked to the door, and stood for a moment with his hand on the
knob. "I will send you up the clothes and some paper and ink," he
added. "Then you can get up or write in bed--just as you like."

After three years of granite quarrying--broken only by a short spell
of sewing mailsacks--the thought of getting back to a more congenial
form of work was a decidedly pleasant one. During the half-hour that
elapsed before Sonia came up with my things, I lay in bed, busily
pondering over various points in connection with my approaching task.
I had often done the same in the long solitary hours in my cell, and
worked out innumerable figures and details in connection with it on my
prison slate. Most of them, however,