we
are lost; and who's denying it? To every disguise, however good and
safe, there is always the weak point; you must always take (let us
say--and to take a simile from your own waistcoat pocket) a snuffboxful
of risk. You'll get it just as small with Rowley as with anybody else.
And the long and short of it is, the lad's honest, he likes me, I trust
him; he is my servant, or nobody."

"He might not accept," said Romaine.

"I bet you a thousand pounds he does!" cried I. "But no matter; all you
have to do is to send him out to-night on this cross-country business,
and leave the thing to me. I tell you, he will be my servant, and I tell
you, he will do well."

I had crossed the room, and was already overhauling my wardrobe as I
spoke.

"Well," concluded the lawyer, with a shrug, "one risk with another: _a
la guerre comme a la guerre_, as you would say. Let the brat come and be
useful, at least." And he was about to ring the bell when his eye was
caught by my researches in the wardrobe. "Do not fall in love with these
coats, waistcoats, cravats, and other panoply and accoutrements by which
you are now surrounded. You must not run the post as a dandy. It is not
the fashion, even."

"You are pleased to be facetious, sir," said I, "and not according to
knowledge. These clothes are my life, they are my disguise; and since I
can take but few of them, I were a fool indeed if I selected hastily!
Will you understand, once and for all, what I am seeking? To be
invisible is the first point; the second, to be invisible in a
post-chaise and with a servant. Can you not perceive the delicacy of the
quest? Nothing must be too coarse, nothing too fine; _rien de voyant,
rien qui detonne_; so that I may leave everywhere the inconspicuous
image of a handsome young man of a good fortune travelling in proper
style, whom the landlord will forget in twelve hours--and the
chambermaid perhaps remember, God bless her! with a sigh. This is the
very fine art of dress."

"I have practised it with success for fifty years," said Romaine, with a
chuckle. "A black suit and a clean shirt is my infallible recipe."

"You surprise me; I did not think you would be shallow!" said I,
lingering between two coats. "Pray, Mr. Romaine, have I your head? or
did you travel post and with a smartish servant?"

"Neither, I admit," said he.

"Which change the whole problem," I continued. "I have to dress for a
smartish servant and a Russia leather despatch-box